 | Our Holiday Among The Hills |  |
33
SUMMER ON THE LOMOND.
The silver mists of morning rise
Obedient to the sun,
And lo! the Lomond—to my eyes
Of all the hills that kiss the skies
The dearest fairest one.
Obedient to the sun,
And lo! the Lomond—to my eyes
Of all the hills that kiss the skies
The dearest fairest one.
To Alps or Andes let them hie
Who slight the hills at home—
To Alps and Andes let them fly:
With freer step will you and I
Upon the Lomond roam.
Who slight the hills at home—
To Alps and Andes let them fly:
With freer step will you and I
Upon the Lomond roam.
Its ample upland lawns be ours,
Forsaken yet so fair;
Its braes, its burnies, and its flowers,
Its long calm summer pastoral hours,
And its ethereal air!
Forsaken yet so fair;
Its braes, its burnies, and its flowers,
Its long calm summer pastoral hours,
And its ethereal air!
Oh sweet is love at eventide
In green suburban lane!
But on the Lomond—time is wide,
And life is love, and glorified,
And Eden back again!
In green suburban lane!
But on the Lomond—time is wide,
And life is love, and glorified,
And Eden back again!
| Our Holiday Among The Hills | |