In the highlands, in the country places
Where the old plain men have rosy faces
And the young fair maidens
Quiet eyes;
Where essential silence cheers and blesses
And for ever in the hill-recesses
Her more lovely music
Broods and dies —

O to mount again where erst I haunted;
Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted
And the low green meadows
Bright with sward;
And when even dies, the million-tinted
And the night has come, and planets glinted
Lo, the valley hollow
Lamp-bestarr'd!

O to dream, O to awake and wander
There, and with delight to take and render
Through the trance of silence
Quiet breath!
Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses
Only the mightier movement sounds and passes;
Only winds and rivers
Life and death