Explore "To K. De M" by Robert Louis Stevenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A LOVER of the moorland bare / And honest country winds, you were; / The silver-skimming rain you took; / And loved the floodings of the brook, / Dew, frost and mountains, fire and seas, / Tumultuary silences, / Winds that in darkness fifed a tune, / And the high-riding, virgin moon.
And as the berry, pale and sharp, / Springs on some ditch's counterscarp / In our ungenial, native north- / You put your frosted wildings forth, / And on the heath, afar from man, / A strong and bitter virgin ran.
The berry ripened keeps the rude / And racy flavour of the wood.
And you that loved the empty plain / All redolent of wind and rain, / Around you still the curlew sings- / The freshness of the weather clings- / The maiden jewels of the rain / Sit in your dabbled locks again.