A LILT OF THE ROAD
133
Through a country all alive
With memories of 'forty-five.'
The noble clans once gathered here,
Where now are only grouse and deer.
Alas, that men and crops and herds
Should ever yield their place to birds!
And that the splendid Highland race
Be swept aside to give more space
For forests where the deer may stray
For some rich owner far away,
Whose keeper guards the lonely glen
Which once sent out a hundred men!
When from Inverness we turned,
Feeling that a rest was earned,
We stopped at Nairn, for golf links famed,
'Scotland's Brighton' it is named,
Though really, when the phrase we heard,
It seemed a little bit absurd,
