Lays of the Highlands and Islands By John Stuart Blackie |
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LOCH RANNOCH MOOR. |
Lays of the Highlands and Islands | ||
156
LOCH RANNOCH MOOR.
In the lone glen the silver lake doth sleep;Sleeps the white cloud upon the sheer black hill:
All moorland sounds a solemn silence keep;
I only hear the tiny trickling rill
'Neath the red moss. Athwart the dim grey pall,
That veils the day, a dusky fowl may fly;
But, on this bleak brown moor, if thou shalt call
For men, a spirit will sooner make reply.
Come hither, thou whose agile tongue doth flit
From theme to theme with change of wordy war,
Converse with men makes sharp the glittering wit,
But Wisdom whispers truth, when crowds are far.
Come, sit thee down upon this old grey stone;
Men learn to think, and feel, and pray, alone.
Lays of the Highlands and Islands | ||