At Sundown.
O tendril of ivy and tangle of tree,1
Wild are the banks of my ain countrie !2
The sun is sinking low in the west,3
A golden ball o’er the mountain crest ;4
Shafts of light pierce the moorland’s breast.5
Wild are the banks of my ain countrie.6
O purple of heather and silver of sea,7
Bright are the hues of my ain countrie !8
A fairy knight rides out of the wold ;9
A lady’s sleeve round his helm is rolled ;10
His coal-black charger is shod with gold.11
Bright are the hues in my ain countrie.12
O ripple of streamlet and murmur of bee,13
Sweet are the sounds in my ain countrie !14
He throws me, passing, a glance remote :15
A wandering lark in the clouds afloat16
Has stabbed my soul with its tender note.17
Sweet are the sounds in my ain countrie.18
O shadow of pinewood and silence of lea,19
Cold falls the dew in my ain countrie !20
The lovelight fades in the amber sky,21
And grey mists over the forest fly ;22
We are alone, my heart and I.23
Cold falls the dew in my ain countrie.24