The Bens Of Jura (an T-Iarla Diurach)
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Like watercress gathered fresh from cool streams
Thy kiss, dear love, by the Bens of Jura
Cold the Bens, cold thy love as they
Like watercress gathered fresh from cool streams
Gold the morn at dawn upwingeth
Dreams the night deep-drowned in dew-mist
And my heart, reft of its own sun
Deep lies sunk in death-torpor cold and gray
Like watercress gathered fresh from cool streams
Thy kiss, dear love, by the Bens of Jura
Cold the Bens, cold the mist and gray
Like watercress gathered fresh from cool streams