FAR the gray loch runs Up to Schiehallion. Lap, lap the water flows Where my wee boatie rows, Greenly a star shows Over Schiehallion. She that I wander'd with Over Schiehallion, -- How far ayont your ken, Crags of the merry glen, Stray'd she, that wander'd then Down frae Schiehallion! Sail of the wild swan Turn to Schiehallion! Here where the rushes rise Low the black hunter lies; Beat thou the pure skies Back to Schiehallion! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK REGIMENT by GEORGE HENRY BOKER A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 4 by THOMAS CAMPION BURIAL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY POOR [OR, COCK] ROBIN by MOTHER GOOSE UPON THE IMAGE OF DEATH by ROBERT SOUTHWELL THE VOICE IN THE GLOAMING by WILLIAM ALLAN A HINT FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE THIRD SATIRE OF JUVENAL by PHILIP AYRES |