Comments about Nina Murdoch
The Braemar Road
The road that leads to Braemar winds ever in and out.
It wanders here and dawdles there, and trips and turns about
Like a child upon an errand that play has put to rout.
By the road that leads to Braemar, the greybeard poplars stand,
And on the sky's pale tapestry are broidered in a band
With the flashing frosty needle that gleams in winter's hand.
There are haggard apple-orchards on either side the way,
That once flung scented largesse to every summer's day
To mingle with the incense wh