 | In Russet & Silver |  |
I
Clearest voice in Britain's chorus,
Tusitala!
Years ago, years four and twenty,
Grey the cloudland drifted o'er us,
When these ears first heard you talking,
When these eyes first saw you smiling.
Tusitala!
Years ago, years four and twenty,
Grey the cloudland drifted o'er us,
When these ears first heard you talking,
When these eyes first saw you smiling.
Years of famine, years of plenty,
Years of beckoning and beguiling,
Years of yielding, shifting, baulking,—
When the good ship “Clansman” bore us
Round the spits of Tobermory,
Glens of Voulin like a vision,
Crags of Knoidart, huge and hoary,—
We had laughed in light derision,
Had they told us, told the daring
Tusitala,
What the years' pale hands were bearing,—
Years in stately, dim division.
Years of beckoning and beguiling,
Years of yielding, shifting, baulking,—
When the good ship “Clansman” bore us
Round the spits of Tobermory,
Glens of Voulin like a vision,
x
We had laughed in light derision,
Had they told us, told the daring
Tusitala,
What the years' pale hands were bearing,—
Years in stately, dim division.
| In Russet & Silver | |