The Moor Loch.

Among the lonely hills it lies,1
Deep, dark, and still ;2
And mirrors back the changeful skies,3
The sun, moon, stars, the bird that flies,4
The broad, brown-shouldered hill.5
The world’s wide voice is silent here :6
The cries of men,7
The sob, the laugh, the hope, the fear,8
The things which make earth sad and dear,9
Lie all beneath its ken.10
And only he who comes from far,11
Seeking the deep12
Communion sweet with sun and star,13
Knows of the calm and joy that are14
In its vast stirless sleep.15
For here the eternal soul holds speech,16
Yet makes no sound ;17
With naught but clouds which one might reach,18
The black flood, the untrodden beach,19
And hearkening space, around.20
Time and the things of Time are not ;21
The path we trod22
Ends with the world’s end here, and thought23
Can neither see nor dream of aught24
Save man’s own heart and God.25