Wednesday, June 2, 2010

930. SO AT THE GRAVE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT

SO AT THE GRAVE OF
SIR WALTER SCOTT
Braverman, walking southward,
opening arms to winsome trouble:
a highland voice like a bird, a
sound like unto nothing else, e'er.
Procure the water for the goblet,
do. I hear the distant ladies singing -
an oh-high warbling voice, so
far, far, far away.

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