 | The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir |  |
25
V.
A beech-tree o'er the mill-stream spreads its boughs,In many an eddy whirls the wave beneath;
From Stony-bank the west wind's perfumed breath
Sighs past—'tis Summer's gentle evening close:
Smooth Esk, above thy tide the midges weave,
Mixing and meeting oft, their fairy dance;
While o'er the crown of Arthur's Seat a glance
Of crimson plays—the sunshine's glorious leave;
Except the blackbird from the dim Shire Wood,
Of the once extensive Shire Wood, in whose shade were a hundred stents or grazings for a hundred cows, only a few trees now remain. It extended from the Shire Mill on the south— with its hereditary miller—northwards to the hollow immediately below Mortonhall—the Esk having of old run almost in a line from where the mill-dam enters it to that spot. From gradually bending towards Inveresk, upwards of thirty acres have been gradually transferred to the south banks of the river. When a boy, I remember the town herd at early morn sounding his horn to collect and conduct the cows of the burgesses to these pastures. Nothing of the common now remains: all is under the plough.
All else is still. So passes human life
From us away—a dream within a dream:
Ah! where are they, who with me, by this stream,
Roamed ere this world was known as one of strife?
Comes not an answer from the solitude!
| The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir | |