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William Wordsworth - Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 XII. Yarrow Unvisited
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FROM Stirling castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;
Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travelled;
And when we came to Clovenford,
Then said my "winsome Marrow,"
"Whate`er betide, we`ll turn aside,
And see the Braes of Yarrow."

"Let Yarrow folk, `frae` Selkirk town,
Who have been buying, selling,                              
Go back to Yarrow, `tis their own;
Each maiden to her dwelling!
On Yarrow`s banks let herons feed,
Hares couch, and rabbits burrow!
But we will downward with the Tweed,
Nor turn aside to Yarrow.

"There`s Galla Water, Leader Haughs,
Both lying right before us;
And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed
The lintwhites sing in chorus;                              
There`s pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land
Made blithe with plough and harrow:
Why throw away a needful day
To go in search of Yarrow?

"What`s Yarrow but a river bare,
That glides the dark hills under?
There are a thousand such elsewhere
As worthy of your wonder."
--Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn
My True-love sighed for sorrow;                             
And looked me in the face, to think
I thus could speak of Yarrow!

"Oh! green," said I, "are Yarrow`s holms,
And sweet is Yarrow flowing!
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock,
But we will leave it growing.
O`er hilly path, and open Strath,
We`ll wander Scotland thorough;
But, though so near, we will not turn
Into the dale of Yarrow.                                    

"Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
The sweets of Burn-mill meadow;
The swan on still St. Mary`s Lake
Float double, swan and shadow!
We will not see them; will not go,
To-day, nor yet to-morrow,
Enough if in our hearts we know
There`s such a place as Yarrow.

"Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown!
It must, or we shall rue it:                                
We have a vision of our own;
Ah! why should we undo it?
The treasured dreams of times long past,
We`ll keep them, winsome Marrow!
For when we`re there, although `tis fair,
`Twill be another Yarrow!

"If Care with freezing years should come,
And wandering seem but folly,--
Should we be loth to stir from home,
And yet be melancholy;                                      
Should life be dull, and spirits low,
`Twill soothe us in our sorrow,
That earth has something yet to show,
The bonny holms of Yarrow!"
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