Love in the Highlands
The sunset o’er the Highland grass,
wildling heather and deep morass,
leads the soft step of my pure lass.
Onward to her sweet dear,
where he awaits in sailor brass
and my heart sheds a tear.
The sweet song of the pipes will ring,
down the low road I am walking
my ending step and final spring.
Death hailed with a cold hand,
the closing touch its fate did bring.
Last farewell, my highland.
Poems from Reflections of Poetry
Copyright © 2013 by A. F. Stewart