N the highlands, in the country places, IN Where the old plain men have rosy faces, And the young fair maidens Quiet eyes; Where essential silence cheers and blesses, Her more lovely music Broods and dies. O to mount again where erst I haunted; And the low green meadows Bright with sward; And when even dies, the million-tinted, And the night has come, and planets glinted, O to dream, O to awake and wander There, and with delight to take and render, Quiet breath; Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses, Only the mightier movement sounds and passes; Only winds and rivers, Life and death. H XVII WANDERING WILLIE OME no more home to me, whither must I wander? Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather; Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces, Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moor-fowl, Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees and flowers; WANDERING WILLIE Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley, Fair shine the day on the house with open door; Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimneyBut I go forever and come again no more. XVIII TO DR. HAKE (On receiving a copy of verses) N the beloved hour that ushers day, In the pure dew, under the breaking grey, One bird, ere yet the woodland quires awake, With brief reveillé summons all the brake: Chirp, chirp, it goes; nor waits an answer long; And that small signal fills the grove with song. Thus on my pipe I breathed a strain or two; Yet what but frozen music filled my heart? ΤΟ I KNEW thee strong and quiet like the hills; I knew thee apt to pity, brave to endure: And just I knew thee, like the fabled kings Since then my steps have visited that flood For thee, for us, the sacred river waits; For me, the unworthy, thee, the perfect friend. |