Ode to the Glen, Where rivers whisper low, And o’er the vale the shadows bend, To where wild blossoms grow.

Upon the heights of summer air, The heather shades the green; And there I’ll wander, free from care, Where beauty reigns serene.

Embrace me, winds that onward blow, With whispers sweet and rare; For time will yield to nature’s flow, In love, we breathe the air.

• Robert Burns