A Black And Glassy Float, Opaque And Still, The Loch, At Furthest Ebb Supine In Sleep, Reversing, Mirrored In Its Luminous Deep The Calm Grey Skies; The Solemn Spurs Of Hill; Heather, And Corn, And Wisps Of Loitering Haze; The Wee White Cots, Black-Hatted, Plumed With Smoke; The Braes Beyond - And When The Ripple Awoke, They Wavered With The Jarred And Wavering Glaze. The Air Was Hushed And Dreamy. Evermore A Noise Of Running Water Whispered Near. A Straggling Crow Called High And Thin. A Bird Trilled From The Birch-Leaves. Round The Shingled Shore, Yellow With Weed, There Wandered, Vague And Clear, Strange Vowels, Mysterious Gutturals, Idly Heard.