Metrical tales, and other poems; - Electric Scotland

124 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
A grand historic ruin is there,
With ivy overgrown
A monument of priestly power
In years and ages gone ;
An Abbey fallen to decay,
Where monks made goodly cheer
On fat sirloin, and juicy fowl.
And haunch of fallow deer.
The chattering sparrows build their nests
Amidst its ivy leaves ;
The bats within its chambers fht
In stilly summer eves.
The very owl might roost at will
Beneath the crumbling roof,
And neither monk nor abbot rise
To utter stern reproof.
That ivied pile, those chestnut trees.
That poplar standing nigh,
So tall it looks as if its top
Were up against the sky
There is a charm around the whole
A certain nameless grace
A kind of holy sadness flung
O'er all the lonely place.
And all the glen is full of charms ;
No matter where you roam.
There is a spell on every spot
Endears it like a home.
Methinks when I am sick at heart,
And worn with vexing care,