 | Legends of the isles and Highland Gatherings |  |
120
FOYERS BEFORE THE FALL.
Ere this commotion wakens in thy breast,Or these stern rocks call forth thy hidden powers,
How gently, Foyers, thou passest all thine hours!
Now loitering where the linnet builds its nest,
Or in green meadows where the cattle rest
Lingering, and singing to the birken bowers,
And heather-bells and all the woodland flowers
That bare their bosoms to the fragrant west.
So the great minds that soar to heights sublime,
And win in peril all the world's applause
By thoughts of wisdom and courageous deeds,
Are aye the same that, in a calmer time,
Conform them to the sweet domestic laws,
And sport with happy children in the meads.
| Legends of the isles and Highland Gatherings | |