Scottish Poetry Selection
- My Portrait Gallery
My Portrait Gallery
I have a portrait chamber,
Where never a guest is shown;
But sometimes, of a quiet night,
With memory for my taper light,
I visit it alone.And as I pause before them,
And as a pass them by,
The faces shrined upon the walls
Are lighted where the flicker falls.
And into darkness die.And some absorb me longer,
On some I linger less;
They are the faces of my dead;
But over every face is shed
The strangest happiness.They never once rebuke me
For visits over rare;
The recognitions in their eyes
From frankest kindliness arise,
Without a cloud of care.And no regret nor yearning
In any face I see;
Their smile is like a soft caress
To soothe away the wistfulness
The vision wakes in me.Bereavement once was sorrow;
To after years is given,
Recalling faces loved and fled,
To see them as the happy dead,
Illumed with light from Heaven.
Where else would you like to go in Scotland?
