Poems (E. L. F.)/On a glen at roseneath
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 Through those dark trees, and streaming shone Like sheets of liquid flame.
And many a shadowy spot and lone, And many an aged tree,And fragments grey of rock and stone, Wake melody to me.
For oft before, in sunny hours, I've smiled o'er that loved scene;Oh! I do love the hallowed powers That echo what hath been.