XVIII. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL. (At Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond.) SWEET Highland Girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower! Twice seven consenting years have shed And these gray Rocks; this household Lawn; This fall of water, that doth make 1 A murmur near the silent Lake; This little Bay, a quiet Road Like something fashioned in a dream; Such Forms as from their covert peep Yet, dream and vision as thou art, With earnest feeling I shall pray For never saw I mien, or face, In which more plainly I could trace Here, scattered like a random seed, The embarrassed look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefacedness: Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear Thy courtesies, about thee plays; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts, that lie beyond the reach What hand but would a garland cull Thou art to me but as a wave Of the wild sea: and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Thy Father, any thing to thee! Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace Hath led me to this lonely place. Joy have I had; and going hence Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart, And Thee, the Spirit of them all! ; |