THE time I saw thee, Cora, last, 'Twas with congenial friends; And calmer hours of pleasure past -- My memory seldom sends. It was as sweet an Autumn day As ever shone on Clyde, And Lanark's orchards all the way, Put forth their golden pride; Ev'n hedges, busk'd in bravery, Looked rich that sunny morn; The scarlet hip and blackberry So pranked September's thorn. In Cora's glen the calm how deep! The trees on loftiest hill Like statues stood, or things asleep, All motionless and still. The torrent spoke, as if his noise Bade earth be quiet round, And give his loud and lonely voice A more commanding sound. His foam, beneath the yellow light Of noon, came down like one Continuous sheet of jaspers bright, Broad rolling by the sun. Dear Linn! let loftier falling floods Have prouder names than thine; And king of all, enthroned in woods, Let Niagara shine. Barbarian, let him shake his coasts With reeking thunders far, Extended like the array of hosts In broad, embattled war! His voice appalls the wilderness: Approaching thine, we feel A solemn, deep melodiousness, That needs no louder peal. More fury would but disenchant Thy dream-inspiring dln; Be thou the Scottish Muse's haunt, Romantic Cora Linn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CONVENT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE FLOATING MORMON by KAREN SWENSON A SNOW-STORM; SCENE IN A VERMONT WINTER by CHARLES GAMAGE EASTMAN FRATER AVE ATQUE VALE by ALFRED TENNYSON |