Duddingstone
WITH
caws
and
chirrupings,
the
woods
In
this
thin
sun
rejoice.
The
Psalm
seems
but
the
little
kirk
That
sings
with
its
own
voice.
The
cloud-rifts
share
their
amber
light
With
the
surface
of
the
mere
-
I
think
the
very
stones
are
glad
To
feel
each
other
near.
Once
more
my
whole
heart
leaps
and
swells
And
gushes
o'er
with
glee;
The
fingers
of
the
sun
and
shade
Touch
music
stops
in
me.
Now
fancy
paints
that
bygone
day
When
you
were
here,
my
fair
-
The
whole
lake
rang
with
rapid
skates
In
the
windless
winter
air.
You
leaned
to
me,
I
leaned
to
you,
Our
course
was
smooth
as
flight
-
We
steered
-
a
heel-touch
to
the
left,
A
heel-touch
to
the
right.
We
swung
our
way
through
flying
men,
Your
hand
lay
fast
in
mine:
We
saw
the
shifting
crowd
dispart,
The
level
ice-reach
shine.
I
swear
by
yon
swan-travelled
lake,
By
yon
calm
hill
above,
I
swear
had
we
been
drowned
that
day
We
had
been
drowned
in
love.
