The Modern PoetFor your words and others.
Release 15
Always tinkering.

I use this place too. I keep finding things to add, change, or make a little better.

Latest check: 1,242 passed. Regular checks, ongoing improvements.

This round: quieter reading, book-style chapters, and one HH throughout.

THE MODERN POET

Oban

By William Topaz McGonagall

Oh! beautiful Oban with your lovely bay, Your surroundings are magnificent on a fine summer-day; There the lover of the picturesque can behold, As the sun goes down, the scenery glittering like gold. And on a calm evening, behind the village let him climb the hill, And as he watches the sun go down, with delight his heart will fill As he beholds the sun casting a golden track across the sea, Clothing the dark mountains of Mull with crimson brilliancy. And on a sunny morning 'tis delightful to saunter up the Dunstaffnage road, Where the green trees spread out their branches so broad; And as you pass the Lovers' Loan your spirits feel gay As you see the leaflet float lightly.on the sunny pathway. And when you reach the little gate on the right hand, Then turn and feast your eyes on the scene most grand, And there you will see the top of Balloch-an-Righ to your right, Until at last you will exclaim, Oh! what a beautiful sight! And your mind with wonder it must fill As you follow the road a couple of miles further, till You can see Bennefure Loch on the left hand, And the Castle of Dunstaffnage most ancient and grand. Then go and see the waters of Loch Etive leaping and thundering And flashing o'er the reef, splashing and dundering, Just as they did when Ossian and Fingal watched them from the shore, And, no doubt, they have felt delighted by the rapids' thundering roar. Then there's Ganevan with its sparkling bay, And its crescent of silver sand glittering in the sun's bright array, And Dunolly's quiet shores where sea crabs abide, And its beautiful little pools left behind by the tide. Then take a sail across to Kerrera some day, And see Gylen Castle with its wild-strewn shore and bay, With its gigantic walls and towers of rocks Shivered into ghastly shapes by the big waves' thundering shocks. Then wander up Glen Crootyen, past the old village churchyard, And as you pass, for the dead have some regard; For it is the road we've all to go, Sooner or later, both the high and the low! And as you return by the side of the merry little stream, That comes trotting down the glen most charming to be seen, Sometimes wimpling along between heather banks, And slipping coyly away to hide itself in its merry pranks. Then on some pleasant evening walk up the Glen Shellach road, Where numberless sheep the green hillside often have trod, And there's a little farmhouse nestling amongst the trees, And its hazel woods climbing up the brae, shaking in the breeze. And Loch Avoulyen lies like a silver sea with its forests green, With its fields of rushes and headlands most enchanting to be seen, And on the water, like a barge anchored by some dreamland shore, There wild fowls sit, mirrored, by the score. And this is beautiful Oban, where the tourist seldom stays above a night, A place that fills the lover of the picturesque with delight; And let all the people that to Oban go View it in its native loveliness, and it will drive away all woe. Oh! beautiful Oban, with your silvery bay, 'Tis amongst your Highland scenery I'd like to stray During the livelong summer-day, And feast my eyes on your beautiful scenery, enchanting and gay.

Original source ↗

Poetry data from PoetryDB, curated by The Combed Thunderclap · metadata CC BY 4.0 · Public-domain poem text (USA)

Explore The Modern Poet ↗

POETRY. PHILOSOPHY. THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE.

Something to read.
Something to feel.

Your work, and voices from around the world.
Poetry, poetic philosophy, and the people behind it.

Riddle of the day ↗

A little rhyme. Something to turn over. Tomorrow, a possible answer.

Explore public sources. Read the work where it was shared.

A moment with the words.

A note on the rotation

Box one belongs to works shared here—pictures, poems, or both—with a new selection each hour. The other three change one at a time every fifteen minutes. One is a Halloween poem through October. Skip any card, or pause while you read.

THERE’S ROOM FOR YOUR VOICE.

Got something to say?
Leave it here.

A poem. A picture. Both. Sign your name, use a pen name,
or stay anonymous. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.

YOUR WORDS. YOUR WAY.

Leave something here.

Post a poem, a picture, or both. No profile needed.

Picture-only posts are welcome. No nudity or sexual images. Images stay in your private local queue pending review; automated screening is not connected in this preview.

A little bird, optional.

Artwork becomes the small icon; without artwork, your companion takes its place. You can also leave the small icon blank. Preview everything and change your mind before posting. No account needed.

You keep ownership of your work. Posting availability is checked before you submit. Passing work publishes; flagged work waits privately for the owner.