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; Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted, And the low green meadows Bright with sward; And when even dies, the million-tinted, And the night has come, and planets glinted, Lamp-bestarred. 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, The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old. 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; 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. |