For every one knows where the prodigal nature
Once lavished the rarest of all of her treasure;
Where she hung the steep hill in a moment of leisure,
And dreamed the sweet valleys with lingering pleasure;
She smiled, and the streamlets will run there forever
And yield their full measure to form the great river;
But how void were the hills and the valleys and waters,
Till she brought there the fairest of all of her daughters.
All the beauties were there from the strath-haven town,
And some were so queenly they lacked but the crown;