These are poems written by Constance Graeme Ramsay
when she was between 15 and 17 years old.
They were written between 1905 and 1908.
She was my grandmother and this is her testament.
It is dedicated to her daughters,
Ruth, Kate and Patria Ramsay
The Three Sentinels Three sentinel pines in the pasture stand In their somber foliage dark and hard Like three old warriors stern and scarred. Here in the pleasant pasture land Lonely under the summer moon, In the fall of twilight so sad and strange As their ragged shadows shift and change They blanch the face of the little moon. Here in the pleasant pastureland Fanned by the south winds balmy breath, The three old comrades wait for death. Shoulder to shoulder still they stand. Lonely under the summer moon. In the fall of twilight so sad and strange As their ragged shadows shift and change They blanch the face of the little moon. C. G. Ramsay Feb.18,1907 Montrose When he called us out to fight What could we do? He was the noblest in the land What could we do? It was "God defend the right" Our hearts were in his hand What could we do But follow Montrose? He led us out to death What could we do When himself rode at our head? What could we do But sell our latest breath To follow where he led? What could we do But die for Montrose? C.G. Ramsay 1908 The Sword of Gideon Over the mountains From sea unto sea Like a torrent of steel Resistless and free. To the ends of the Earth We have carried the Sword. The Sword of Gideon. The Sword of the Lord! Onward to victory March we unwearying. Tireless in conquest. Sons of the Sword! Like the hills in our strength. Like the sea in our pride. No power upon Earth Can turn us aside. We come like the storm. The Sons of theSword. We pass like the clouds At the word of the Lord. Onward to victory March we unwearying. Tireless in conquest, Sons of the Sword! C. G, Ramsay May, 1907 The Fairy-singers Up and down we go by night, And whoso hears our music light Must rise and follow us to and fro Many shall come, but none shall go. The dreamer turns beneath the moon And hears in dreams our silver tune. Feet that follow and lips that are dumb None shall go out though many come The shepherd hears the bleat of flocks Upon the hills among the rocks And winds himself with his plaid about Many come in but none go out. Duke and belted earl and lord Lay aside both pen and sword To hear us sing when the moon is low Many shall come but none shall go. Come! We will give you gold to spend And wondrous treasures without end And untold joys we will give to some And none shall go though many come. C.G. Ramsay June 21, 1907 The Exiles (After Glencoe) Waking and dreaming I hear the pipers play. The pipes loud complaining Is with me night and day Waking and dreaming To weep I were full fain When I hear the pibroch seeming To call me home again. But we return no more. In the land we know of old For our fires are quenched, and cold Are the hearths we loved before Sleeping and waking My heart is sad and sore. For the tune of the pipers Is "We return no more"; Sleeping and waking (Ohon! Ohon a ri!) My heart is nigh breaking And I were fain to dee. For we return no more. And our place shall know us not And the mountains have forgot The clan they knew before. Fareweel to Glengarry Where I was born and bred The dead have no sorrows An' oh! That I were dead! It's fareweel to Glengarry An' the hills whaur I was born For ne'er mair in Glengarry I'll wander nicht or morn. We return no more To the land we hold so dear For barren now and drear Is the place we knew before. Waking and sleeping I hear the pipes complain But I never shall hear them On my native hills again. Waking or sleeping By nicht or noon or morn My heart's in the keeping Of the hills whaur I was born. But we return no more To the land we loved of old For our dead lie there, and cold Are the homes we knew before. C.G.Ramsay May, 1907 Comments? E-mail me back