The auld Scotch mither, and other poems, in the dialect of Burns . speak o hoo it fared, The day I tauld loes story ?Wi that nae bliss can be compared, Nae fame can hae sic night, when a had left the rig, Behin, agreed, we haltit;I kenned the time wi fate was big; To meet it my heart vaultit. Aboon the hills the harvest-mune Her bluid-red disk was showin,An peace frae Gude came silent doun, Owre a rapt Nature min me weel o that sweet hour In whilk behind we lingered,An stooped and pluckit mony a flower, An it to pieces fingered. I08 POEMS. I min we weel o that lang kiss Fon
The auld Scotch mither, and other poems, in the dialect of Burns . speak o hoo it fared, The day I tauld loes story ?Wi that nae bliss can be compared, Nae fame can hae sic night, when a had left the rig, Behin, agreed, we haltit;I kenned the time wi fate was big; To meet it my heart vaultit. Aboon the hills the harvest-mune Her bluid-red disk was showin,An peace frae Gude came silent doun, Owre a rapt Nature min me weel o that sweet hour In whilk behind we lingered,An stooped and pluckit mony a flower, An it to pieces fingered. I08 POEMS. I min we weel o that lang kiss Fond lips wi first luve sealit;We baith were faint for vera bliss; Weak words canna reveal min me weel o that hame-walk: Fond fit kept step thegither,An tongues, loe-loosed, minglit i talk Twas a o ane anither! Weel, ere was gaun the harvest-mune An a the rigs were clearit,The man o Gude had made us one; The hoo we did na speir anely kenned ilk w^as ilks ain, Eschewed our fortune single ;Without, I harvest a the grain, She feeds, within, the ingle. f-^^-. she leedt-. \Mthin the uigle I BAIRNS THEGITHER. IO9 BAIRNS THEGITHER. When we were bairns thegither, My Andyr, you an I,The gowden sternies i the lift Were nightly kindlit high ;We thought they maun be angels een, Blinkin tobless our sight;Or else the crystal winnocks, whence Streamit celestial hght. When we were bairns thegither, We slept up neath the roof,An heard the blithesome autumn-rain, Wi mony a thousand hoof;Or waked to see the snaw-flakes lie On trees an hills aroun —A spectral host, at morn in capip, Without a note or soun! When we were bairns thegither,Wi pants aboon our knees, On some rude raft, we paidlit aff,As though we sought new seas. IJO POEMS. But aft we waded back agen, Drippin in sorry guise,An hameward skulked, twa sadder bairns, But seldom, ah ! mair wise. When we were bairns thegither, We kenned ilk wimplin burn ;We threadit a the neebrin woods. Our store o nuts to earn :We climb it mony a h
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookpublisherbosto, bookyear1873
