Poems & songs . They near the margin stray ;If, hapless chance ! they linger lang, Im scorching up so shallow,Theyre left, the whitning stanes amang. In gasping death to wallow. Last day I grat wi spite and teen, As Poet Burns came by,That, to a bard, I should be seen Wi half my channel dry :A panegyric rhyme, I ween, Even as I was he shord me;But had I in my glory been, He, kneeling, wad adord me. Here, foaming down the shelvy rocks, In twisting strength I rin ;There, high my boiling torrent smokes, Wild-roaring oer a linn :Enjoying large each spring and well, As nature gave them me,I am, alt
Poems & songs . They near the margin stray ;If, hapless chance ! they linger lang, Im scorching up so shallow,Theyre left, the whitning stanes amang. In gasping death to wallow. Last day I grat wi spite and teen, As Poet Burns came by,That, to a bard, I should be seen Wi half my channel dry :A panegyric rhyme, I ween, Even as I was he shord me;But had I in my glory been, He, kneeling, wad adord me. Here, foaming down the shelvy rocks, In twisting strength I rin ;There, high my boiling torrent smokes, Wild-roaring oer a linn :Enjoying large each spring and well, As nature gave them me,I am, altho I sayt mysel, Worth gaun a mile to see. Would then my noblest master please To grant my highest wishes,Hell shade my banks wi towring trees, And bonnie spreading doubly then, my Lord, Youll wander on my banks,And listen mony a grateful bird Return you tuneful thanks. The sober lavrock, warbling wild, Shall to the skies aspire;The gowdspink, musics gayest child, Shall sweetly join the choir :. POEMS BY ROBERT BURNS. This, too, a covert shall insure, To shield them from the storms;And coward maukins sleep secure Low in their grassy forms :The shepherd here shall make his seat, To weave his crown of flowrs;Or find a sheltring safe retreat, From prone descending showrs. And here, by sweet endearing stealth, Shall meet the loving pair,Despising worlds, with all their wealth, As empty idle flowrs shall vie in all their charms The hour of heavn to grace,And birks extend their fragrant arms To screen the dear embrace. Here haply, too, at vernal dawn, Some musing bard may stray,And eye the smoking, dewy lawn, And misty mountain grey;Or, by the reapers nightly beam, Mild chequring thro the trees,Rave to my darkly-dashing stream, Hoarse swelling on the breeze. Let lofty firs, and ashes cool, My lowly banks oerspread,And view, deep-bending in the pool, Their shadows watry bed !Let fragrant birks in woodbines drest My craggy cliffs adorn ;And, for the little son
Size: 1304px × 1915px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorburnsrob, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1875
