‘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. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email.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.