Robert Tannahill

All hail! ye dear romantic scenes

 Next Poem          

All hail! ye dear romantic scenes,
Where oft as eve stole o'er the sky,
Ye've found me by the mountain streams,
Where blooming wild-flowers charm the eye.

The sun's now setting in the west--
Mild are his beams on hill and plain;
No sound is heard save Killoch burn,
Deep murm'ring down its woody glen.

Green be thy banks, thou silver stream,
That winds the flowery braes among;
Where oft I've woo'd the Scottish muse,
And raptur'd wove the rustic song.

Next Poem 

 Back to
Robert Tannahill