88
LOCH TORRIDON.
And a day was arisen indeed for us. Years and the
changes of years
Clothed round with their joys and their sorrows, and
dead as their hopes and their fears,
Lie noteless and nameless, unlit by remembrance or
record of days
Worth wonder or memory, or cursing or blessing, or
passion or praise,
Between us who live and forget not, but yearn with
delight in it yet,
And the day we forget not, and never may live and may
think to forget.
And the years that were kindlier and fairer, and kindled
with pleasures as keen,
Have eclipsed not with lights or with shadows the light
on the face of it seen.
For softly and surely, as nearer the boat that we gazed
from drew,
The face of the precipice opened and bade us as birds
pass through,
