Loch Carron

For Elizabeth, on her passing from this world.

 

I shall take me to Loch Carron,

To the “Lake of Rough Waters” now,

And stand on a shore that is barren

Where the sea and the sweet waves meet.

 

For my sky is as dark as the bog’s black peat,

And my barque has been beaten and tossed,

Time’s frost has come upon my brow,

And the star of my dreams has been crossed!

 

Not a ray of a sun on the muted moor,

Not a lamb on the heathland to bleat,

But only the thought of a heart that was pure,

And the sweet, bitter waves of Loch Carron.

 

 

© Joseph Charles MacKenzie. All rights reserved.