 | Poems at Home and Abroad |  |
98
A Westmoreland Song
Rust-red are the mountains
And white fall the fountains
When over Helvellyn fly winterly gales;
But green when the comer,
Who brings us the summer,
The cuckoo calls clear o'er the Westmoreland dales.
And white fall the fountains
When over Helvellyn fly winterly gales;
But green when the comer,
Who brings us the summer,
The cuckoo calls clear o'er the Westmoreland dales.
When bracken was springing
The live air was ringing,
The lambs with loud chorus filled valleys below;
Now bracken is umber,
How deep is the slumber
Of mountains that wait for the silence of snow.
The live air was ringing,
The lambs with loud chorus filled valleys below;
Now bracken is umber,
How deep is the slumber
Of mountains that wait for the silence of snow.
But oh! for the weather
That brought us the heather,
When high Pike o'Stickle and Easdale were bright;
And oh! the long gloamings
Of May, for the roamings
O'er hills that were never quite darkened with night.
That brought us the heather,
When high Pike o'Stickle and Easdale were bright;
And oh! the long gloamings
Of May, for the roamings
O'er hills that were never quite darkened with night.
99
Ye Westmoreland mountains,
Ye Westmoreland fountains,
The clouds are your children, the streams are your birth;
When tear-drops fall quickly,
And clouds gather thickly,
Your calm and your hope bring new comfort to Earth.
Ye Westmoreland fountains,
The clouds are your children, the streams are your birth;
When tear-drops fall quickly,
And clouds gather thickly,
Your calm and your hope bring new comfort to Earth.
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