Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
III. At Loch ErichtJohn Stuart Blackie (1809–1895)
N
From travelling cockneys, wondering at a hill,
From lisping ladies, who from huge towns flee,
To nurse feigned raptures at a tumbling rill!
From large hotels and finely-furnished inns,
With all things but pure kindness in their plan,
And from sleek waiters, whose obsequious grins
Do make me loathe the very face of man!
Smooth modern age, which no rough line doth mar,
All men must praise thy very decent law!
But in this bothie I am happier far,
Where I must feed on oats, and sleep on straw.
For why? Here men look forth from honest faces,
And are what thing they seem, without grimaces.