 | Lays of the Highlands and Islands |  |
66
STENNIS.
I.
Here on the green marge of the wrinkled lake
Far-winding snake-like, north, south, east, and west,
From these grey stones thy Sabbath sermon take,
And in the lap of hoary memory rest!
Who framed the cirque, who dug the moat, who sleeps
'Neath the soft silence of the old green mound
I shun to ask: Time, the stern warder, keeps
The key of dateless secrets underground.
This only know, when early man appeared,
Scouring the brown heaths of these wind-swept isles,
He had both thought and thews, and proudly reared
These gaunt recorders of his brawny toils.
Like him be thou; and let thy work proclaim
Thy strength, when Time forgets to spell thy name.
| Lays of the Highlands and Islands | |