Too long have I dwelt
In the valley beneath ;
Too long have I felt
The soft summer wind's breath ;
Too long have I lingered
In evergreen bowers,
And drank the air laden
With fragrance of flowers.
They felt the gale smiting
Their brows in its motion ;
They heard the stream fighting
Its way to the ocean.
They saw the rough granite
By thunderbolts riven,
And deemed that the mountains
Were nearest to heaven.
Dartmoor
Alexander Henry Abercromby Hamilton
