Durisdeer Hills Poem by Alexander Anderson

Just a peep from a carriage window,
As we stood for a moment still,
Just one look—and no more—till the engine
Gave a whistle sharp and shrill.


But I saw in that moment the heather,
That lay like a purple sheet
On the hills that watch over the hamlet
That sleeps like a child at their feet.


O, sweet are those hills when the winter
Flings round them his mantle of snow,
And sweet when the sunshine of summer
Sets their fair green bosoms aglow.


But sweeter and grander in autumn,
When the winds are soft with desire,
When the buds of the heather take blossom,
And run to their summits like fire.


And still as we tore through the valley,
With shrieks now and then as of scorn,
Though the uplands were golden with harvest,
And lasses were lifting the corn;


Though the river lay gleaming like silver,
Or dark in the shadows that fell
From trees that were spreading their branches
Like sorcerers weaving a spell,


I saw each and all through the heather
That purple lay spread like a sheet
On the hills that watch over the hamlet,
That sleeps like a child at their feet.