 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
FAILURE
I see the Kirk beneath the hill,
The tall elms rustling in the breeze,
The modest Manse, so calm and still,
The dripping of the sleepy mill
That hides among the nutting trees.
The tall elms rustling in the breeze,
The modest Manse, so calm and still,
The dripping of the sleepy mill
That hides among the nutting trees.
I look down, with a hungry heart,
On the broad river rippling cool;
The fisher plies his patient art,
The trout leaps, and the May flies dart
About the slowly eddying pool.
On the broad river rippling cool;
The fisher plies his patient art,
The trout leaps, and the May flies dart
About the slowly eddying pool.
Low sunbeams on the meadows play,
The moon shows like a film of cloud,
A star from the red skirts of day
Peeps to another star far away,
And the hill is wrapt in a misty shroud.
The moon shows like a film of cloud,
A star from the red skirts of day
Peeps to another star far away,
And the hill is wrapt in a misty shroud.
A shepherd's wife comes to the door,
Shading her eyes with large brown hand,
He is away on the upland moor,
And nothing she sees but a kestrel soar,
Keen-eyed, spying far over the land.
Shading her eyes with large brown hand,
He is away on the upland moor,
And nothing she sees but a kestrel soar,
Keen-eyed, spying far over the land.
There is no voice but the rushing rills,
And creak of frightened pewit's wing,
And bleat of young lambs on the hills,
Heard only when a silence fills
The soul, and all the space of things.
And creak of frightened pewit's wing,
And bleat of young lambs on the hills,
Heard only when a silence fills
The soul, and all the space of things.
What made my eyes grow dim and blind?—
Ah, when the heart is heavy and low,
The beauty that on earth we find,
Or strain of music on the wind,
Shall touch it like an utter woe!
Ah, when the heart is heavy and low,
The beauty that on earth we find,
Or strain of music on the wind,
Shall touch it like an utter woe!
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |