| Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922. | | | | The Heather | | By Neil Munro (18648–1930) |
| | | IF I were King of France, that noble fine land, | |
| And the gold was elbow deep within my chests, | |
| And my castles lay in scores along the wine-land | |
| With towers as high as where the eagle nests; | |
| If harpers sweet, and swordsmen stout and vaunting, | 5 |
| My history sang, my stainless tartan wore, | |
| Was not my fortune poor, with one thing wanting,— | |
| The heather at my door. | |
| |
| My galleys might be sailing every ocean, | |
| Robbing the isles, and sacking hold and keep, | 10 |
| My chevaliers go prancing at my notion, | |
| To bring me back of cattle, horse and sheep; | |
| Fond arms be round my neck, the young heart’s tether, | |
| And true love-kisses all the night might fill, | |
| But oh! mochree, if I had not the heather, | 15 |
| Before me on the hill! | |
| |
| A hunter’s fare is all I would be craving, | |
| A shepherd’s plaiding and a beggar’s pay, | |
| If I might earn them where the heather, waving, | |
| Gave fragrance to the day. | 20 |
| The stars might see me, homeless one and weary, | |
| Without a roof to fend me from the dew, | |
| And still content, I’d find a bedding cheery | |
| Where’er the heather grew! | | | | |
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