The auld Scotch mither, and other poems, in the dialect of Burns . bliss ; Im fu o inward laughter;It bubbles up in ilka kiss, Whilk only makes me dafter. Im fu o sangs as are the birds, As Iambics fu o frolic ;Im neer at loss for playfu words, Nor ever melancholic ;Im droukit daft wi mither-joy, As frae deep fountain wellin ;•Im droukit dait wi my ain boy, A day upon him dwellin. I nev^er kenned what God had duneWhen he sent Aiidyr to me ^7 98 POEMS. It set my life to sic a tune! What if it Slid undo me?What if, for very joy I dee, An leave him to anither?Ah ! that wad never do for me ; 1 mau
The auld Scotch mither, and other poems, in the dialect of Burns . bliss ; Im fu o inward laughter;It bubbles up in ilka kiss, Whilk only makes me dafter. Im fu o sangs as are the birds, As Iambics fu o frolic ;Im neer at loss for playfu words, Nor ever melancholic ;Im droukit daft wi mither-joy, As frae deep fountain wellin ;•Im droukit dait wi my ain boy, A day upon him dwellin. I nev^er kenned what God had duneWhen he sent Aiidyr to me ^7 98 POEMS. It set my life to sic a tune! What if it Slid undo me?What if, for very joy I dee, An leave him to anither?Ah ! that wad never do for me ; 1 maun be still his mither! SKAILIN FORTH FRAE KIRK. I loe to mark the guidfolk A-skailin forth frae kirk ;Accoutred d their haimilt claith, Weel kept frae wear an wark :I loe to mark their revrent ways ;The lingerin leuk of awe an praise. There comes a group o bairnies, Sae gran i tartan drest;Meikle o wisdom i their heids, Their twinkhn,mirth supprest:Nae wantonness, nae idle play,Sae douce upon Gudes halie day. The laddies wi the lasses,r pairs, thegither cleek;. The laddies wi the lassesI pairs thegither cleek. SKAILIN FORTH FROM KIRK. 9^ I loe to mark hives simmer roseHalf blawn on maiden cheek;I loe to hark ilk faltrin word,Sae timid spak, sae eager heard. I loe to mark the auld folk, Their haffets crowned wi snaw, Ilk claspin ithers runklit hans,Sae loin still withdraw : Their honored heids a downward bowed, Like harvest grain i shooks of gow-d. Some loiter I the kirk-vard, Wiiare mony an achin heldLies hid beneath the sweet, sweet clods: The late, the lang-syne deid ;The parh their faithers a hae trodTo rax the upper House o God. They stap i yonder hamlet. They loiip across the burn :Hame through, they a sae doucely gae; A lost to sight by kirk Stans lane, an wholly gaunThe halesome pageant we leuked on. lOO POEMS. ILK NIGHT AT MITHERS KNEE. Hae you forgot, now we hae bairns,When you an I were lass an lad,How, i our snawy night-dress knelt ilk night at mit
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookpublisherbosto, bookyear1873
