H. S. REID

H. S. REID(SOMERVILLE)

I sailedamong the OrcadesIn the green encircling seas.So near the isles our nest did glideI picked a flower at the waterside;And just so quickly were we spedThat I bruised the stalk and plucked the head.There was no foam upon the waves,They swelled to glassy hills and caves;But foam white were the thorns that grewAmong the meadow flowers blue.Laus tibi Domine,That gavest such a dream to me.

I sailedamong the Orcades

In the green encircling seas.

So near the isles our nest did glide

I picked a flower at the waterside;

And just so quickly were we sped

That I bruised the stalk and plucked the head.

There was no foam upon the waves,They swelled to glassy hills and caves;But foam white were the thorns that grewAmong the meadow flowers blue.Laus tibi Domine,That gavest such a dream to me.

There was no foam upon the waves,

They swelled to glassy hills and caves;

But foam white were the thorns that grew

Among the meadow flowers blue.

Laus tibi Domine,

That gavest such a dream to me.

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