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Poem by Robert Burns


Written with a Pencil, Standing by the Fall of Fyers, Near Loch-Ness


AMONG the heathy hills and ragged woods
The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods;
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds,
Where, thro a shapeless breach, his stream resounds.
As high in air the bursting torrents flow,
As deep recoiling surges foam below,
Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends,
And viewless Echos ear, astonished, rends.
Dim-seen, thro rising mists and ceaseless showrs,
The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, lours.
Still thro the gap the struggling river toils,
And still, below, the horrid cauldron boils-

  *  *  *  *  *  *



                      Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. O, Wat Ye Whas In Yon Town?
  2. The Lass O ballochmyle
  3. When First I Came to Stewart Kyle
  4. Sae Fair Her Hair
  5. Weary Fa You, Duncan Gray


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