While driving, a husband hums an old psalm in a mellow baritone, and his wife listens. The tune seems to come to him from his Scottish Covenanting ancestors, men who praised God bare-kneed on Highland hills. In the middle of a busy modern city, surrounded by factories, shipyards, and the huge machines he controls, he seems strong, calm, and distant—almost entirely absorbed in his work. But the sound of the psalm briefly pulls the speaker out of that world. She stops seeing the crowded streets and industrial landscape. Instead, she sees only the private, golden hours when he is simply hers. The poem creates a warm, quiet, intimate mood: love is found not in grand gestures but in a familiar old hymn and the tender attention of a wife watching her husband in an unguarded moment.
A Sketch — Summary
I hear him humming as he drives his car, In mellow baritone, an ancient psalm-- Drifting down to his subtle modern brain From his old covenanting ancestors, Who strode bare-kneed through purple heather bloom, Praising their God on wind-swept Highland hills. I am his wife. Beside him vividly, I see now not the crowded city streets, Through which he presses, strong, aloof and calm, Factories and shipyards where his vast machines Whirr steadfastly, obedient to his brain-- I see now just those small and golden hours When he is mine.