The Highland Clearances
A Dark period in Scottish Historty
About
THE WEEPING GLEN
In quiet glens where shadows fall,
The hearths lie cold, the voices still;
A thousand dreams, now scattered all,
Like leaves beneath the winds cruel will.
The hills remember what was torn,
The homes of those who won’t return.
The land was theirs, the soil they sowed,
Yet strangers’ hands unmade their place.
The crofter’s song, the shepherd’s road,
Are ghosts that linger in the space—
Where now, the heather stands alone,
And silence weaves in every stone.
O children of the northern sky,
Who walked the paths of ancient kin,
Your names endure, though far you fly,
Though seas now keep your kindred in.
The heart of Alba still can feel,
The wounds that time may never heal.