Midwinter (Buchan)

We two confess twin loyalties—Wychwood beneath the April skiesIs yours, and many a scented roadThat winds in June by Evenlode.Not less when autumn fires the brake,Yours the deep heath by Fannich's lake,The corries where the dun deer roarAnd eagles wheel above Sgurr Mór.So I, who love with equal mindThe southern sun, the northern wind,The lilied lowland water-meadAnd the grey hills that cradle Tweed,Bring you this tale which haply triesTo intertwine our loyalties.