THE heart that
hungers for the sea
Will never in the city bide
Oh heart! To wander where the tide
Comes crawling in mysteriously
Across some far, forsaken strand:
Where, all the summer, little curls
Of water lie in golden swirls
Among the rocks on golden sand:
Where the white sea-gulls wheel and scream
And morning wears a veil of grey,
While out beyond the dancing spray
The isles of rest forever dream...
Apart from these, how sad will be
The heart that hungers for the sea.
The heart that hungers for the hills
Will never in the lowlands rest --
Oh, unforgotten mountains, drest --
In beauty where the whin-flame fills
The bens and glens with mystic light!
Oh, sad brown waters that can hold
An instant, all the summer's gold;
And oh! The lonely Highland night
The capercailzie's eerie crying;
Spring days, with sunlight drifting through
Mist -- and, over all, the blue
Smoke of the heather, softly lying...
Apart from these, what longing fills
The heart that hungers for the hills!
Sunset behind Rhum, seen from North Morar