 | Rhymes of our planet |  |
31
WHEN BURNS WAS BORN
When Burns was born,
The winter clouds had gathered with the morn,
The snow and ice were camping through the vale,
The cottage trembled 'neath a savage gale,
That seemed to know the tiny priest of mirth,
And strive to sweep his refuge from the earth.
The little city near him slept and thrived,
And did not know its prophet had arrived,
Who soon should make its three short letters known
Wherever Fame a sounding blast has blown,
With silver horn!
The winter clouds had gathered with the morn,
The snow and ice were camping through the vale,
The cottage trembled 'neath a savage gale,
That seemed to know the tiny priest of mirth,
And strive to sweep his refuge from the earth.
The little city near him slept and thrived,
And did not know its prophet had arrived,
Who soon should make its three short letters known
Wherever Fame a sounding blast has blown,
With silver horn!
Upon that morn
A hundred songs that now the world adorn,
With pictures it will never let depart,
Were lying deep in Nature's yearning heart.
The daisy oft had glittered from the hill,
But waited for her plough-boy lover still;
The wounded hare had suffered sore and long,
But never yet had heard its funeral song;
The cunning mouse had plied its petty craft,
But had not sent the world a text that laughed
Mankind to scorn!
A hundred songs that now the world adorn,
With pictures it will never let depart,
32
The daisy oft had glittered from the hill,
But waited for her plough-boy lover still;
The wounded hare had suffered sore and long,
But never yet had heard its funeral song;
The cunning mouse had plied its petty craft,
But had not sent the world a text that laughed
Mankind to scorn!
John Barleycorn
Prepared his sweetest rose and sharpest thorn;
The witches set their heads and hoofs to work,
To hunt O'Shanter from the ancient kirk;
The hills began to put themselves in tune
To voice the care that lurked in “Bonnie Doon”;
The world would soon a world of love enshrine
Within the golden bars of “Auld Lang Syne”;
The cotter's home produced its greatest grief,
But fame and glory, far beyond belief—
When Burns was born!
Prepared his sweetest rose and sharpest thorn;
The witches set their heads and hoofs to work,
To hunt O'Shanter from the ancient kirk;
The hills began to put themselves in tune
To voice the care that lurked in “Bonnie Doon”;
The world would soon a world of love enshrine
Within the golden bars of “Auld Lang Syne”;
The cotter's home produced its greatest grief,
But fame and glory, far beyond belief—
When Burns was born!
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