Verse > Anthologies > Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. > Poems of Places > Scotland
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed.  Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Scotland: Vols. VI–VIII.  1876–79.
Robert Burns (1759–1796)
Written with a Pencil over the Chimneypiece in the Parlor of the Inn at Kenmore, Taymouth

ADMIRING Nature in her wildest grace,
These northern scenes with weary feet I trace;
O’er many a winding dale and painful steep,
The abodes of covied grouse and timid sheep,
My savage journey, curious, I pursue,        5
Till famed Breadálbane opens to my view.
The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides;
The woods, wild scattered, clothe their ample sides;
The outstretching lake, imbosomed ’mong the hills,
The eye with wonder and amazement fills;        10
The Tay, meandering sweet in infant pride;
The palace, rising on its verdant side;
The lawns, wood-fringed in Nature’s native taste;
The hillocks, dropt in Nature’s careless haste;
The arches, striding o’er the new-born stream;        15
The village, glittering in the noontide beam—
*        *        *        *        *
Poetic ardors in my bosom swell,
Lone wandering by the hermit’s mossy cell:
The sweeping theatre of hanging woods;
The incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods—
*        *        *        *        *
Here Poesy might wake her Heaven-taught lyre,
And look through nature with creative fire;
Here to the wrongs of Fate half reconciled,
Misfortune’s lightened steps might wander wild;
And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds,        25
Find balm to soothe her bitter, rankling wounds:
Here heart-struck Grief might heavenward stretch her scan,
And injured Worth forget and pardon man.
*        *        *        *        *

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