WALTER CHALMERS SMITH
No father here but would give a son
For the old country, And his mother the sword would have girded on
To fight her battles Many's the battle that has been won
By the brave tartans, Glenaradale.
But the big-horn'd stag and his hinds, we know,
In the high corries, And the salmon that swirls in the pool below
Where the stream rushes Are more than the hearts of men, and so
We leave thy green valley, Glenaradale.
��T!
��DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI
779 The Blessed Damozel
SHE blessed damozel lean'd out From the gold bar of Heaven, Her eyes were deeper than the depth
Of waters stilPd at even, She had three hhcs in her hand,
And the stars in her hair were seven.
Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,
No wrought flowers did adorn, But a white rose of Mary's gift,
For service meetly worn, Her hair that lay along her back
Was yellow like ripe corn.
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