Page:Poems E. L. F.djvu/48

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ON A "GLEN" AT ROSENEATH, 1842
A brook, meandering, was my guide
Through a wild Scottish glen,
That tracked the mountain's heathy side
Far from the haunts of men.

That lonely brook sang mournfully,
As on its waters rolled;
The music blessed, all peacefully,
My spirit as I strolled.

And trees all-sweepingly o'erhung
The waters as they lay,
Till the deep shadows o'er them flung
Half-hid the light of day.

But as I wandered on and on,
Bright sunny glances came

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