GLENCOE.
243
I dare not think upon the time
When last I heard that strain.
It was a silent summer eve:
We stood by the hill side,
And we could see my ship afar
Breasting the ocean tide.
Around us grew the graceful larch,
A calm blue sky above,
Beneath were little cottages,
The homes of peace and love.
Thy harp was by thee then, as now,
One hand in mine was laid;
The other, wandering 'mid the chords,
A soothing music made:
