The Bell Family
and photographic perspective
The Poetry of Janet Bell Parker
Far from the roar of the city's din,
Is a glen that the World knows not!
Far from the scenes of shame and sin,
Is that sweet secluded spot.
Far from the noise of the giddy crowd,
And the frivolous haunts of men,
No voice of riot or rebel loud,
Is e'er heard in Wamphray Glen.
No sound is there save the rushing stream,
As it foams o'er its rocky bed,
Or perhaps some wild birds piercing scream,
Sound loud and shrill o'er head.
The trail of the serpent ne'er was seen,
In that spot so wildly fair,
But the ivy creeps and the grass grows green,
And the wild flowers blossom there.
On the green hillside there's an acre bare,
Where the dead are laid to rest,
Oh peacefully sweet may they slumber there,
With the green sod on their breast.
'Tis surely, surely a fitting place,
For the last long dreamless sleep,
For there unseen by the careless gaze
May the lonely mourner weep.
The green grass waves o'er the lonely graves,
And the murmuring stream runs on,
The cool night breeze, through the leafy trees,
Sends a low and mournful moan.
As the mill wheel creaks methinks it speaks,
Of the peace of its sheltered den,
And no other sound breaks the calm profound,
That reigns in Wamphray Glen.
Have you ever been in Wamphray,
When the wild flowers were in bloom?
Did you smell the honeysuckle,
Did you see the yellow broom?
Have you seen the red, red rowans,
And the bracken on the brae,
Have you walked among the gowans
Have you seen the woods in May?
Have you ever seen Dundoran,
With the sunlight on its brow?
And the golden glow of morning
Glinting on each leafy bough?
Have you stood beside the river
Watched the quiet waters flow,
Where the tender green leaves quiver
As the gentle breezes blow?
Do you know the Langside Meadow
And the scent of new mown hay?
All the old familiar landscape
Lost to me for many a day.
Have you climbed the Bleeze in Summer,
Have you wandered in the Glen?
Then you've seen a dream of beauty
I may never see again.
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