Scotland

I meant, before I left, to sketch your mountains

your rich sun-slanted endless variations:

black crags heather-muted, gorse-golden

hills bristle-forested all greens

rising grassy fields white-sheep-scattered

lichened standing stones in mossy woods

 

I meant, before I left, to sing your waters

your sparkling cloud-cooled endless variations:

stone-tumbled beaches wave-blunted

streams rock-bedded rushing down

slow-sand firths tidal-slipping

sudden valley lochs in silent mist

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