And I <br />Am reading, too, my book of memory: <br />With eyelids closed, over the crested foam, <br />And the blue, marbled sea, I seek my home. <br />All present things forgotten, on the shore <br />Of the romantic Forth I stand once more; <br />Once more I hear the waves' harmonious strife; <br />Once more, upon the mountain coast of Fife, <br />I see the checker'd lights and shadows fall. <br />Upon the sand crumbles the ruin'd wall <br />That guards no more the desolate demesne, <br />And the deserted mansion. High between <br />The summer clouds the Ochil hills arise; <br />And far, far, like a shadow in the skies, <br />Ben Lomond tow'rs aloft in sovereign height. <br />O Cramond beach! are thy sands still as bright— <br />Thy waters still as sunny,—thy wild shore <br />As lonely and as lovely as of yore?— <br />Haunts of my happy time! as wandering back <br />Along my life, on memory's faithful track, <br />How fair ye seem,—how fair, how dear ye are! <br />Ye need not to be gazed at from afar; <br />Deceptive distance lends no brighter hue; <br />Your beauty and your peacefulness were true. <br />Not yours the charms from which we wearied stray, <br />And own them only when they're far away. <br />Oh, be ye blest for all the happiness <br />Which I have known in your wild loneliness. <br />Old sea, whose voice yet chimes upon my ear,— <br />Old paths, whose every winding step was dear,— <br />Dark, rocky promontories,—echoing caves, <br />Worn hollow by the white feet of the waves,— <br />Blue, lake-like waters,—legend-haunted isle, <br />Over ye all bright be the summer's smile; <br />And gently fall the winter on your breast, <br />Haunts of my youth, my memory's place of rest.<br /><br />Frances Anne Kemble<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-42/
