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TO A HIGHLAND GIRL.
(At Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond.)
SWEET Highland Girl, a very shower
Of beauty is thy earthly dower!
Twice seven consenting years have shed
And these gray Rocks; this household Lawn;
This fall of water, that doth make
A murmur near the silent Lake;
This little Bay, a quiet Road
Like something fashioned in a dream;
Such Forms as from their covert peep
Yet, dream and vision as thou art,
With earnest feeling I shall pray
For never saw I mien, or face,
In which more plainly I could trace
Here, scattered like a random seed,
The embarrassed look of shy distress,
And maidenly shamefacedness:
Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear
Thy courtesies, about thee plays;
With no restraint, but such as springs
From quick and eager visitings
Of thoughts, that lie beyond the reach
What hand but would a garland cull
Thou art to me but as a wave
Of the wild sea: and I would have
Some claim upon thee, if I could,
Thy Father, any thing to thee!
Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace
Hath led me to this lonely place.
Joy have I had; and going hence
Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart,
And Thee, the Spirit of them all!