The Burdens of Belief and Other Poems By The Duke of Argyll [i.e. G. D. Campbell] |
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SONG OF THE WATER OUSEL
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 | The Burdens of Belief and Other Poems |  |
SONG OF THE WATER OUSEL
My home is on the rivers
That run among the hills,
Through all the sloping valleys,
Down all the moorland rills.
That run among the hills,
Through all the sloping valleys,
Down all the moorland rills.
But clear must be the waters
As they glide and rush along,
And the woodlands must be lonely
That hearken to my song.
As they glide and rush along,
And the woodlands must be lonely
That hearken to my song.
For there my rhythmic numbers
Are spread among the stones;
And the listening water answereth
In its own low murmuring tones.
Are spread among the stones;
And the listening water answereth
In its own low murmuring tones.
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And thus we keep such melody
As the world has never known:
For the river never ceaseth
To love me as its own.
As the world has never known:
For the river never ceaseth
To love me as its own.
I love it for the gladness
It speaketh in my ear,
In all its wayward windings
Through the cycle of the year.
It speaketh in my ear,
In all its wayward windings
Through the cycle of the year.
For in the months of summer,
When its gentlest currents run
In streams of liquid amber
All golden in the sun;
When its gentlest currents run
In streams of liquid amber
All golden in the sun;
And in the months of winter,
When every stone is set
In fretted sheets of silver
That have not melted yet,
When every stone is set
In fretted sheets of silver
That have not melted yet,
We keep our music sounding,
When other birds are still,
Singing, singing, evermore,
At our own sweet will.
When other birds are still,
Singing, singing, evermore,
At our own sweet will.
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And when the primrose opens
Its soft and steady eye,
We then begin our nesting,
My merry wife and I.
Its soft and steady eye,
We then begin our nesting,
My merry wife and I.
We choose some bank o'erhanging,
And weave a wondrous dome,
Where she can hear the waters
And watch the specks of foam.
And weave a wondrous dome,
Where she can hear the waters
And watch the specks of foam.
That come from all the breakings,
Tho' they be miles away,
Yet never miss the eddies
That bring them by her way.
Tho' they be miles away,
Yet never miss the eddies
That bring them by her way.
And all the days of summer
We dive into its breast;
And we rout among the pebbles,
And feed the teeming nest.
We dive into its breast;
And we rout among the pebbles,
And feed the teeming nest.
And we love to see the shimmer,
As it rushes overhead,
And we flutter in the noises
That gurgle from its bed;
As it rushes overhead,
And we flutter in the noises
That gurgle from its bed;
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And we scatter little cataracts
That tumble through our wings,
When we shake the drops from off us
In a shower of silver rings.
That tumble through our wings,
When we shake the drops from off us
In a shower of silver rings.
And when we see the movings
Of little wings that strive,
We never need to teach them
Or how to swim or dive.
Of little wings that strive,
We never need to teach them
Or how to swim or dive.
For the music of the river
Has taught them ere we know,
As came their glossy feathers,
As came their breasts of snow.
Has taught them ere we know,
As came their glossy feathers,
As came their breasts of snow.
For the pleasant river loved them
Before they left the nest;
It laves them in its ripples,
It bears them on its breast.
Before they left the nest;
It laves them in its ripples,
It bears them on its breast.
And from its banks of blaeberry
The tall, white stalks of grass
Bend down their plumes to watch us
And cheer us as we pass.
The tall, white stalks of grass
Bend down their plumes to watch us
And cheer us as we pass.
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Then we hunt the golden shallows,
We sound the crystal deeps,
And rest where round some boulder stone
The languid current sleeps.
We sound the crystal deeps,
And rest where round some boulder stone
The languid current sleeps.
At last, a merry family,
We face the autumn weather,
And spread all up the mountain rills,
By banks of fern and heather.
We face the autumn weather,
And spread all up the mountain rills,
By banks of fern and heather.
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