‘O, Scotland’ by Clide Abersuwe The Society September 22, 2014 Humor, Poetry “Breathes there a man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself has said, This is my own, my native land.” —Walter Scott I saw this stolid man stand tall, and obviously proud. He wore a bit of blue and white, o, Scotland, strong and stout. He looked like he had been through brawls; he had a brutal face; and yet about his hardened look, he had a touch of grace. I saw it at the edges of his shoulders, arms and back; I saw it in his hungry look, unsatisfied, alack. I saw it in his countenance. I saw it in his stance. Here was a mighty beauty who would neither preen nor prance. His hands akimbo at his waist, his legs out wide and sure. I hoped that he would stay with us. He made me feel secure. Featured Image: “Sir Walter Scott” by John Graham-Gilbert. Related Post Three Sonnets by J. Simon Harris I. I’ve awed at the Atlantic’s bluest depths, and peered at the Pacific’s deepest blues; the warm blue summer waters of Key West, and cold blue wi... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.