O blossom-scattered orchards and
green fields --
How you have moved the heart of me to grief!
O all you burnished burns and wild birds flying --
How your songs have stirred the fibres of my soul!
O you long glens where shadows lie asleep;
and all you patient pines whose perfume floods the air
with scent of other years . . .
you are forever my lost dream and my longing unappeased.
O scarred,
O sad and lovely hills,
how you have enchanted me!
Gean, or Wild Cherry, Glen Artney |
