Ballads and Lyrics of Old France (42)

    THREE crests² against the saffron sky, Beyond the purple plain, The dear remembered melody Of Tweed once more again.

    Wan³ water from the border hills, Dear voice from the old years, Thy distant music lulls⁴ and stills, And moves to quiet tears.

    Like a loved ghost thy fabled⁵ flood Fleets through the dusky land； Where Scott, come home to die, has stood, My feet returning stand.

    A mist of memory broods and floats, The border waters flow； The air is full of ballad⁶ notes, Borne out of long ago.

    Old songs that sung themselves to me, Sweet through a boy's day dream, While trout⁷ below the blossom'd tree Plashed in the golden stream.