If I Were Old

If I were old, a broken man and blind, and one should lead me to Mid-Eildon's crest, and leave me there a little time to rest sharing the hilltop with the Border wind, the whispering heather, and the curlew's cry, I know the blind dark could not be so deep, so cruel and clinging, but that I should see the sunlit curve of Cheviot's steep rise blue and friendly on the distant sky! There is no darkness - God! there cannot be - so heavy as to curtain from my sight the beauty of those Border slopes that lie far south before me, and a love-found light would shine upon the slow Tweed loitering by with gift of song and silver to the sea!- No dark can ever hide this dear loved land from me