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CORRA LINX.
��Tnou RT beautiful, sweet Corra Linn,
In thy sequestered place, Thy plunge on plunge raid wreathing foam
Abrupt, yet full of grace, Down, down, with bold and breathless speed,
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 wide and rude, But Corra s time-rocked castle sleeps
In peaceful solitude.
What wouldst thou think, sweet Corra Linn, Shouldst thou Niagara spy,
�� �
