Immured in Bothwell's Towers, at times the Brave <br />(So beautiful is the Clyde) forgot to mourn <br />The liberty they lost at Bannockburn. <br />Once on those steeps <br />I <br />roamed at large, and have <br />In mind the landscape, as if still in sight; <br />The river glides, the woods before me wave; <br />But, by occasion tempted, now I crave <br />Needless renewal of an old delight. <br />Better to thank a dear and long-past day <br />For joy its sunny hours were free to give <br />Than blame the present, that our wish hath crost. <br />Memory, like Sleep, hath powers which dreams obey, <br />Dreams, vivid dreams, that are not fugitive; <br />How little that she cherishes is lost!<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bothwell-castle/
