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A
Highland Landscape
Bleak
Moors, gaunt hills - “No picture here”
The
critics say, but in my car
A
whisper questions “Is it
so?
These
are the hills you love to know.
From
boyhood you have made your way
Among
them many a summer day;
In
manhood you have sought and found
Their
welcome every season round;
Your
feet have leapt their black peat hags.
Slipped
on their screes and scaled their crags
Rung
on their rocks, sprung on their heather;
To
you in every sort of weather
They
have revealed each varying mood
And
you have seen and understood
These
strange effects of sun and mist
The
critics say do not exist.
(These
armchair critics, be it said,
Rush
in where climbers fear to tread.)
You
have found beauty. Therefore
take
Your
photograph and strive to make
A
picture that will represent
Something
of all that this has meant.
For
if you fail, you merely prove
Their
ignorance exceeds your love!
1954 |