Though Nothing Can Bring Back The Hour Of Splendor In The Grass,Of Glory In The Flower

a poem by William Willis, Scotland

her sands of life are running low...............

her heart's in the Highlands
her ancestral home
the wildness the flowers
how the years they have flown
four seasons in the morning
grass chlorophyll green
infinite pastures
she's our lost Scottish Queen

her hair ruby russet
conflicts with the hue
she's broken the morning
what a glorious view
from the river near Cannich
to dynamic Glencoe
her heart's in the Highlands
how she misses it so

was married in the Highlands
in a town called Argyle
her own royal wedding
photographs were (Scots style)
purple heather hillsides
and salmon pink sky
crossed the pond to a new life
rings of gold they did fly

take her back dear old Highlands
years have taken their toll
piper's tune in the valley
for one last loch-side stroll
reminiscing of old times
and times that were grand
she'll rest in the Highlands
in Bonnie Scotland

last days in the Highlands
let nature take her hand
photographs and the memories
slipping through her life's sand
though nothing can bring back
the hour of (such) splendor
in the grass (homely green)
of the glory of the flower
for our lost Scottish Queen


The Highlands are a region in Scotland which has picture-postcard images with majestic scenery, awesome wild countryside, towering mountains, ancient pine forests and many expanses of dark and shimmering lochs.

As Per Nancy's William Wordsworth Challenge.

you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink
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