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The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan

In Two Volumes. With a Portrait
Buchanan, Robert Williams (1841-1901)

collapse sectionI. 
VOL. I.
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Early Poems.
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Undertones.
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Idyls and Legends of Inverburn.
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London Poems.
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Miscellaneous Poems.
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North Coast, and other Poems.
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Sonnets WRITTEN BY LOCH CORUISK, ISLE OF SKYE.
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CORUISKEN SONNETS.
 I. 
I. Lord, is it Thou?
 II. 
II. We are Fatherless.
 III. 
III. We are Children.
 IV. 
IV. When we are all Asleep.
 V. 
V. But the Hills will bear Witness.
 VI. 
VI. Desolate!
 VII. 
VII. Lord, art Thou here?
 VIII. 
VIII. God is Beautiful.
 IX. 
IX. The Motion of the Mists.
 X. 
X. Coruisk.
 XI. 
XI. But Whither?
 XII. 
XII. God is Pitiless.
 XIII. 
XIII. Yea, Pitiless.
 XIV. 
XIV. Could God be Judged.
 XV. 
XV. The Hills on their Thrones.
 XVI. 
XVI. King Blaabhein.
 XVII. 
XVII. Blaabhein in the Mists.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. The Fiery Birth of the Hills.
 XIX. 
XIX. The Changeless Hills.
 XX. 
XX. O Mountain Peak of a God.
 XXI. 
XXI. God the Image.
 XXII. 
XXII. The Footprints.
 XXIII. 
XXIII. We are Deathless.
 XXIV. 
XXIV. A Voice in the Whirlwind.
 XXV. 
XXV. Cry of the Little Brook.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. The Happy Hearts of Earth.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. Father, forgive Thy Child.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. God's Loneliness.
 XXIX. 
XXIX. The Cup of Tears.
 XXX. 
XXX. The Light of the World.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. Earth's Eldest Born.
 XXXII. 
XXXII. What Spirit Cometh?
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. Stay, O Spirit!
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. Quiet Waters.
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The Book of Orm.
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Political Mystics.
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Songs of the Terrible Year.
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Saint Abe and his Seven Wives.
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VOL. II.

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XV. The Hills on their Thrones.

Ghostly and livid, robed with shadow, see!
Each mighty Mountain silent on its throne,
From foot to scalp one stretch of livid stone,
Without one gleam of grass or greenery.
252

Silent they take the immutable decree—
Darkness or sunlight come,—they do not stir;
Each bare brow lifted desolately free,
Keepeth the silence of a death-chamber.
Silent they watch each other until-doom;
They see each other's phantoms come and go,
Yet stir not. Now the stormy hour brings gloom,
Now all things grow confused and black below,
Specific through the cloudy Drift they loom,
And each accepts his individual woe.
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