A thought

A thought

I thought of the still green mountains
Of the heather’s waving bloom
Of the streamlet’s silvery fountain
As it flows from far off home

I thought of the warbling birdies
As they fly from tree to tree
But in their happy melody
There was little room for me

I thought of the sun in his glory
As he rides to the golden west
Ah, how radiantly lovely
As he silently sinks to rest

But, ah, these thoughts were lovely
But yet so vast and dim
Like a soft sweet strain of music
From a long-forgotten hymn

1922 Age 8

This is another poem included at the end of Lorna's book Told round the fire. Although Lorna was 8 when she put the verse together, the illustration dates from much later when she was 15.