Explore "Roslin and Hawthornden (of Skies and Seasons)" by Henry Van Dyke on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Fair Roslin Chapel, how divine / The art that reared thy costly shrine! / Thy carven columns must have grown / By magic, like a dream in stone.
Yet not within thy storied wall / Would I in adoration fall, / So gladly as within the glen / That leads to lovely Hawthornden.
A long-drawn aisle, with roof of green / And vine-clad pillars, while between, / The Esk runs murmuring on its way, / In living music night and day.
Within the temple of this wood / The martyrs of the covenant stood, / And rolled the psalm, and poured the prayer, / From Nature's solemn altar-stair.
Edinburgh, 1877.