Classic Poem

I think this is the very stillest place
On all God's earth, and yet no rest is here.
The Vapours mirror'd in the black loch's face
Drift on like frantic shapes and disappear;
A never-ceasing murmur in mine ear
Tells me of Waters wild that flow and flow.
There is no rest at all afar or near,
Only a sense of things that moan and go.
And lo! the still small life these limbs contain
I feel flows on like those, restless and proud;
Before that breathing nought within my brain
Pauses, but all drifts on like mist and cloud;
Only the bald Peaks and the Stones remain,
Frozen before Thee, desolate and bowed.