The shaggy dog that wakes the forest old

With joyous echoes as he bounds along,

Starting the heron from his reedy lair⁠—

These, while the morning sunbeams slant along

Through that old portal, massy, grim and bare,

Stand, grouped together,—emblems fit, I ween,

Of many another quiet household scene!

E.


THERE’S NO LAND LIKE SCOTLAND.