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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408322" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Heath from the Highlands</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, where the great hills fall away<br>To bays of silver sea,<br>I hold within my hand to-day<br>A wild thing, strange to me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Behind me is the deep green dell<br>Where lives familiar light;<br>The leaves and flowers I know so well<br>Are gleaming in my sight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yonder is the mountain glen,<br>Where sings in trees unstirred<br>By breath of breeze or axe of men<br>The shining satin-bird.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old weird cry of plover comes<br>Across the marshy ways,<br>And here the hermit hornet hums,<br>And here the wild bee strays.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No novel life or light I see,<br>On hill, in dale beneath:<br>All things around are known to me<br>Except this bit of heath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This touching growth hath made me dream -<br>It sends my soul afar<br>To where the Scottish mountains gleam<br>Against the Northern star.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It droops - this plant - like one who grieves;<br>But, while my fancy glows,<br>There is that glory on its leaves<br>Which never robed the rose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For near its wind-blown native spot<br>Were born, by crags uphurled,<br>The ringing songs of Walter Scott<br>That shook the whole wide world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There haply by the sounding streams,<br>And where the fountains break,<br>He saw the darling of his dreams,<br>The Lady of the Lake.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And on the peaks where never leaf<br>Of lowland beauty grew,<br>Perhaps he met Clan Alpine's chief,<br>The rugged Roderick Dhu.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not far, perchance, this heather throve<br>(Above fair banks of ferns),<br>From that green place of stream and grove<br>That knew the voice of Burns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Against the radiant river ways<br>Still waves the noble wood,<br>Where in the old majestic days<br>The Scottish poet stood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Perhaps my heather used to beam<br>In robes of morning frost,<br>By dells which saw that lovely dream -<br>The Mary that he lost.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hope, indeed, the singer knew<br>The little spot of land<br>On which the mountain beauty grew<br>That withers in my hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Highland sky my vision fills;<br>I feel the great, strong North -<br>The hard grey weather of the hills<br>That brings men-children forth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The peaks of Scotland, where the din<br>And flame of thunders go,<br>Seem near me, with the masculine,<br>Hale sons of wind and snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So potent is this heather here,<br>That under skies of blue,<br>I seem to breathe the atmosphere<br>That William Wallace knew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And under windy mountain wall,<br>Where breaks the torrent loose,<br>I fancy I can hear the call<br>Of grand old Robert Bruce.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408322" data-title="Heath from the Highlands de Henry Kendall" data-description="Here, where the great hills fall away
To bays of silver sea,
I hold within my hand to-day
A wild thing, strange to me.

Behind me is the deep green dell
Where lives familiar light;
The leaves and flowers I know so well
Are gleaming in my sight.

A..."></div>
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