HEATHER LAYS. 



O thoughts of the past! ye bring sadness, 

 And vain is the wish that once more 



The great grassy glens that are silent 



Were homes of the braves as of yore. 



Sleep, brave ones and bards that have perished, 

 And green be your places of rest 



And light be the winds that go sighing 



O'er the children whom Nature loved best. 



The soft dewy steps of the gloaming 

 Are climbing the sides of the Ber, 



The last flush of light crowns with glory 

 The Herdmant that watches the glen. 



Here, wrapped in my plaid in the heather, 



I envy no monarch his bed. 

 Come, dreams of the hills and the Highlands, 



And visit in slumber my head. 

 Sheriff Nicholson, in "Good Words." 



*A long-haired friendly sprite, of the Brownie 

 species, but female. 



tBuchaill Etive, the principal mountain at the 

 head of the glen. 



Clover and Heather 



There are greetings the wide world over, 

 And blossoms wherever we roam, 



But none like the heather and clover 

 To welcome the wanderer home. 

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