William Ernest Henley (Óèëüÿì Ýðíñò Õåíëè)

From A Window In Princes Street

Above the Crags that fade and gloom
Starts the bare knee of Arthur's Seat;
Ridged high against the evening bloom,
The Old Town rises, street on street;
With lamps bejewelled, straight ahead,
Like rampired walls the houses lean,
All spired and domed and turreted,
Sheer to the valley's darkling green;
Ranged in mysterious disarray,
The Castle, menacing and austere,
Looms through the lingering last of day;
And in the silver dusk you hear,
Reverberated from crag and scar,
Bold bugles blowing points of war. 

1. What is to Come
2. Casualty
3. In Fisherrow
4. Your Heart Has Trembled To My Tongue
5. The Spring, My Dear

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