On the Hogg Monument by St Mary’s Loch
The night is swift on Ettrick now,
The snow is white upon the hill,
The broken brackens weakly bow –
Late dawn and early dusk are chill –
And shadowed by enduring pines
The Ettrick Shepherd’s votive stone
Watches the meeting of the lochs,
And muses with his dog alone.
For him the troublous days are o’er,
The thresh of thought and change and mind;
And by St Mary’s quiet shore
He communes with the endless wind.
Across the grey-green border hills
He sees the light and shadow run,
The hurry of the misty rains,
The brown bent’s glitter in the sun.
Too human quarrel and mistake
No longer harry him or grieve:
He only sees the rainbows wake
Among the hills about Altrieve.
The garland of his mountain song
Enwreathes him with immortal dew;
The larks above his head prolong
The music that his spirit knew,
And where his troubled spirit trod
His carven memory may see
Hill flowers that blossom in the sod
And breathe of immortality.
1928
Heather and birch and pine,
Three idle words, three idle things;
And all the autumn’s gold
And all the rain-blown springs!
Last night when skies were still,
Slept, sunk in deepmost night,
Beneath the sinking moon
The wild geese passed in flight.
Their whirring, beating wings
Flew southward through the dark,
Deep stillness after them:
Only the soul might mark
The changing of the year,
The coming breath of cold.
Along the Grampian slopes
The birches will be gold.
Snow upon Eskdalemuir
And, where wild pigeons brood,
The aspens all in flame
Fringing the Ord Bain wood
The clearing glows at night,
Cairngorm is crowned with snow.
The whirring wild geese’ flight
Went by in solitude
’Neath a low orange moon.
The summer hush has gone,
The wind will change its tune.
Heather and birch and pine,
Three wild and lovely things,
And all the taste of them
Swift on those passing wings!
1928