  White stands the long Kilpatrick row Of hills with deep and dazzling snow, And eastward, in a glimmering haze, Stretch to the Forth the Campsie Braes. But see! beyond the Clyde, a stain Of smoke that runs across the plain, And flecks for miles the vivid gleam: It is the tireless steed of steam. An old acquaintance! Ben and Strath Daily behold his thunderous path, That ceases not, until he feels The breeze of Mallaig cool his wheels. And Memory, fondly gazing back On many a journey by that track Of splendour, would, at home, retrace The charms and lore of every place; Yea, pass, in thought, to storied Skye, Where all the glens in glamour lie; And, lightly scorning gust and spray, Leap o'er the Minch to Stornoway. And many a northern beach besides, Splashed by the foam of racing tides, Rises in thought: from here to there, Let Fancy's coinage pay the fare,— Fancy, that wafts us o'er the main To utmost Thule and home again, Through mingled din of sea and sky, Even in the twinkling of an eye. D. T. H. Ingleholm, Bridge of Weir, |
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