Skip to main content

‹‹‹ prev (273) Page 239Page 239

(275) next ››› Page 241Page 241

(274) Page 240 -
240
ORIGINAL POEMS.
The moon is near its setting wheeled.
And the southwest is bright;
Where half obscured, its site is marked %
By a dim blotch of light.
All else is dark above, below,
And silent as the dead;
All, save the hoarse end swollen brook
That frets its moory bed.
Another sullen stifled sound,
Is the deep note and grand
That lulls in every hour of calm,
An ocean-girded land.
Ten miles the road doth stretch along
Before a house you reach ;
Three miles through moor and sandhills,
And seven along the beach.
Where, ever as you wander on,
The sea-waves rolling blue,
The yellow sand, the bent so brown,
And streamlets passing through.
Bocks, hills, and silent distant moors,
Are all that you may see;
But in the night ’tis lonelier far,
And wild as well may be.
Why then so late and carelessly,
On trampling steed and strong,
Bides Captain Gorrie all alone,
This lonely road along 1
What boon and joyous company,
What bien and bright fireside,

Images and transcriptions on this page, including medium image downloads, may be used under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence unless otherwise stated. Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence