Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower! Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost bounty on thy head:
And these grey rocks; thathousehold lawn; Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water that doth make A murmur near the silent lake;
This little bay; a quiet road That holds in shelter thy Abode — In truth together do ye seem Like something fashioned in a dream;
Such Forms as from their covert peep When earthly cares are laid asleep! But, O fair Creature! in the light Of common day, so heavenly bright,
I bless Thee, Visionas thou art, I bless thee with a human heart; God shield thee to thy latest years! Thee, neither know I,nor thy peers;
And yet my eyes are filled with tears. With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away: For never saw I mien, or face,
In which more plainly I could trace Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. Here scattered, like a random seed,
Remote from men, Thou dost not need The embarrassed look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefacedness: Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear
The freedom of a Mountaineer: A face with gladness overspread! Soft smiles,by human kindness bred! And seemliness complete, that sways
Thy courtesies, about thee plays; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach
Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life! So have I, not unmoved in mind,
Seen birds of tempest-loving kind — Thus beating up against the wind. What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful?
O happy pleasure! here to dwell Beside thee in some heathy dell; Adopt your homely ways and dress, A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess!
But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality: Thou art to me but as a wave Of the wild sea; and I would have
Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighbourhood. What joy to hear thee, and to see! Thy elder Brother I would be,
Thy Father — anything to thee! Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace Hath led me to this lonely place. Joy have I had; and going hence
I bear away my recompence. In spots like these it is we prize Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes: Then, why should I be loth to stir?
I feel this place was made for her; To give new pleasure like the past, Continued long as life shall last. Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart,
Sweet Highland Girl! from thee to part; For I, methinks, till I grow old, As fair before me shall behold, As I do now, the cabin small,
The lake, the bay, the waterfall; And Thee, the Spirit of them all!
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