Page:Pleasant Memories.pdf/111

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CORRA LINN.

Thou'rt beautiful, sweet Corra Linn,
    In thy sequestered place,
Thy plunge on plunge mid wreathing foam
    Abrupt, yet full of grace,
Down, down, with breathless speed thou go'st
    Into thy rock-sown bed,
Bright sunbeams on thy glancing robes,
    Rude crags above thy head.

Thy misty dew is on the trees,
    And forth with gladness meet
They reach the infant leaf and bud,
    To take thy baptism sweet.
No Clydesdale spears are flashing high,
    In foray wild and rude,
But Corra's time-rocked castle sleeps
    In peaceful solitude.