TWILIGHT1 ON TWEED.
THREE crests2 against the saffron sky, Beyond the purple plain, The dear remembered melody Of Tweed once more again.
Wan3 water from the border hills, Dear voice from the old years, Thy distant music lulls4 and stills, And moves to quiet tears.
Like a loved ghost thy fabled5 flood Fleets through the dusky land； Where Scott, come home to die, has stood, My feet returning stand.
A mist of memory broods and floats, The border waters flow； The air is full of ballad6 notes, Borne out of long ago.
Old songs that sung themselves to me, Sweet through a boy's day dream, While trout7 below the blossom'd tree Plashed in the golden stream.
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