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September 1942
THE light fades. All around,
in silence brooding,
The solemn hills, blue-washed with shadows, lean
Each on the other, while the unleashed wind
Wails down the ragged heights, and the far glen
Lies wrapped in dreams.
We, too, are dreamers. Here,
On this wild peak, beneath this painted sky,
Our hearts are one with gulls and all things lonely,
Yet quiet and gentle as the sheep that browse
Huddled among the folds of lesser hills.
These shall endure, outlasting generations,
And men who climb the hills in after years,
They, too, when the leaf falls
And summer flickers to a close, shall know
The light fading across the dim heights, freezing
One moment in eternity; while far below
The spires of Edinburgh, blanketed in mist,
Drift into sleep.
Edinburgh seen from Inverleith |
