Blair Collection > Poems and songs

LINES WRITTEN NEAR AULTNACRAIG, OBAN. 33
Tho' I'd not wound my valentine
With Cupid's fiery dart,
I 'd like a little corner in
My chickabiddy's heart.
I do not want the little fay
For life to be my rib,
But I'd like a little prayer at night
From Bessie's little crib.
LINES WRITTEN NEAR AULTNACRAIG,
OBAN.
O'er Morven's peaks bi-ight glowed the golden west,
And I sat down upon a heath-clad hill
To list the brook sing its sweet psalm of rest,
As on it rippled past the silent mill.
80 full of glory was the gorgeous scene,
Where seemed the beauties of all lands combined,
The gay heath 'mong a thousand shades of green,
The ivy ai'ound tree and rock entwined.
The music of the bee, the bird, the brook,
The mirrored sea, where mountains gazed with pride,
The hoary crag, the flower-bedappled nook,
The stately trees thro' which the zephja-s sighed.
The crystal fountains and the fragrant air,
So cool and piu'e, and as the sun went down.
The lingering glory crowning every wliere
The lovely braes beyond sweet Oban town.
The brook was hymning to the old grey mill,
As on it rippled to the silvery sea,
And I beheld another on the hill
Who seemed to listen to its minstrelsy.
Sti'angely in keeping with the scene sublime.
His flowing locks bathed in the mellow light
Like some grand chieftain of the olden time
Taking his rest from w^eary chase or fight.
Friend of our mountain land, our tongue, our race.
The sunbeams haloing thine hoary head
D