O for the Arran breezes!
O for the sunny glow!
O for the glens and mountains!
Of just ten years ago.
I see it all in fancy,
As I lie with half-shut eyes,
And fairer still in dreamland,
When slumber o’er me lies.
Where are the happy voices
That gladden'd all the day,
And rose in songs at evening
From boats across the bay?
Where is the fading splendor,
That linger'd, like a smile,
Upon the peaks of Goatfell,
And on the Holy Isle?
Not in my heart is envy
That youth returns once more
In other forms and voices
Than those I loved of yore;
Yet all my heart is craving
For pleasures that are fled,
For voices of the distant,
And voices of the dead.
The mist comes down on Arran,
Rich in its purple dies;
I see that mist no longer,
A mist is o'er my eyes.
O for the Arran breezes!
O for the sunny glow!
O for the loves and friendships!
Of just ten years ago.
