Peter Davidson wrote these words for setting to music, but they stand perfectly well on their own as an evocation of late summer in the north.

CONSTANCY

The summer's passing, the barley's growing high,

The wind-blown clouds sweep the September sky,

The rowans go to gold, the wild geese cry.

Iron knows the north, the river finds the sea,

The loveliest of things is Constancy.

Above the forests rise the granite braes,

Which stand unchanging through our changing days

As years and centuries pass on their way.

Iron knows the north, the river finds the sea,

The loveliest of things is Constancy.

How faithful the midsummer light shines on:

Still undiminished though the sun had gone,

Unwavering, fair, from midnight until dawn.

Iron knows the north, the river finds the sea,

The loveliest of things is Constancy.