Poems By Robert Leighton: 2nd ed |
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OUR AIN AULD TOON. |
 | Poems |  |
343
OUR AIN AULD TOON.
Our ain auld toon! O, our ain auld toon!
There is magic in thy name, there is music in the soun'!
When I look upo' thy hallans that sae smeeky are and dun—
When I look upo' thy spires, as they pierce into the air—
When I look upo' thy winnocks, as they glisten i' the sun—
There comes a feeling ower me that I'm hardly fit to bear;
And the tear is in my e'e, for the day it has come roun'
When I maun turn my back upon our ain auld toon.
There is magic in thy name, there is music in the soun'!
When I look upo' thy hallans that sae smeeky are and dun—
When I look upo' thy spires, as they pierce into the air—
When I look upo' thy winnocks, as they glisten i' the sun—
There comes a feeling ower me that I'm hardly fit to bear;
And the tear is in my e'e, for the day it has come roun'
When I maun turn my back upon our ain auld toon.
When I look at the auld steeple, and listen to its bell,
That seems an eldritch tale fu' dowie-like to tell;
And when I look alang the clorty crookit streets,
And see the artless bairnies, sae frolicksome, at play,—
There comes a thrill within me, and my heart wi' rapture beats,
As I think upo' my bairnhood—a short-lived sunnie day;—
For these were a' my haunts when I was a careless loon,
And never had a thocht to leave our ain auld toon.
That seems an eldritch tale fu' dowie-like to tell;
And when I look alang the clorty crookit streets,
And see the artless bairnies, sae frolicksome, at play,—
There comes a thrill within me, and my heart wi' rapture beats,
As I think upo' my bairnhood—a short-lived sunnie day;—
For these were a' my haunts when I was a careless loon,
And never had a thocht to leave our ain auld toon.
But ah! we've little skill in the workings o' the mind;
It is fickle at the best, and it changes like the wind;
The thochts, and the fancies, and the feelings o' the bairn
Grow dim and fade awa' as years come ower the frame.
Our life is like a day, and in its sunnie morn
Our wishes are content wi' the pleasures of our hame;
But when the morning's past, and our life is near its noon,
We may tak' anither thocht, and leave our ain auld toon.
It is fickle at the best, and it changes like the wind;
The thochts, and the fancies, and the feelings o' the bairn
Grow dim and fade awa' as years come ower the frame.
Our life is like a day, and in its sunnie morn
Our wishes are content wi' the pleasures of our hame;
But when the morning's past, and our life is near its noon,
We may tak' anither thocht, and leave our ain auld toon.
344
When I was a wee-bit laddie, and wanton'd ower the lea,
The singin' o' the birdie, or the bummin' o' the bee
Wad ha'e brocht a charm upon me, and fixed me to the spot,
And there I'd stand entranced, wi' the tear into my e'e;
And then the torments o' the schule I easily forgot,—
For the sylvan haunts o' woods and fields were sweeter far to me:
And aft on bonnie simmer days I'd liked to play the troon;
For the sun-glints seem'd to wile me frae our ain auld toon.
The singin' o' the birdie, or the bummin' o' the bee
Wad ha'e brocht a charm upon me, and fixed me to the spot,
And there I'd stand entranced, wi' the tear into my e'e;
And then the torments o' the schule I easily forgot,—
For the sylvan haunts o' woods and fields were sweeter far to me:
And aft on bonnie simmer days I'd liked to play the troon;
For the sun-glints seem'd to wile me frae our ain auld toon.
But, our ain auld toon, oh I couldna leave ye lang!
Just as far's yon birken wood, and nae farther wad I gang;
Or whar yon bickerin' burnie gaes birlin' doon the brae,
And clatters a' the day, as it seems to chase itsel';
Or westward by yon bonnie green at gloamin' wad I gae,
When the wavelets come a-wooing to the beach, their love to tell;
Or I'd sclammer up yon hill, and frae its tap look doon
Into the very heart of our ain auld toon.
Just as far's yon birken wood, and nae farther wad I gang;
Or whar yon bickerin' burnie gaes birlin' doon the brae,
And clatters a' the day, as it seems to chase itsel';
Or westward by yon bonnie green at gloamin' wad I gae,
When the wavelets come a-wooing to the beach, their love to tell;
Or I'd sclammer up yon hill, and frae its tap look doon
Into the very heart of our ain auld toon.
But the day is come at last, e'en the very moment's near;
And my friends are on the craig, and the boat is at the pier.
I try to hide the tear as it steals into my e'e,
And I try to crush the sigh as it rises in my breast;
But to see sae mony friends a' gather'd here for me,
Brings waefu' notions ower me, and they winna bide at rest.
O my head is a' bambazed, and my heart is in a swoon—
I maun confess I'm wae to leave our ain auld toon!
And my friends are on the craig, and the boat is at the pier.
I try to hide the tear as it steals into my e'e,
And I try to crush the sigh as it rises in my breast;
But to see sae mony friends a' gather'd here for me,
Brings waefu' notions ower me, and they winna bide at rest.
O my head is a' bambazed, and my heart is in a swoon—
I maun confess I'm wae to leave our ain auld toon!
345
I left it ance before, and laith I was to part;
For youth's first smile o'love had begun to warm my heart;
And though I left our ain auld toon, my heart was left behind;
And my thochts dwelt aye on ane, and I liked to lisp her name;
And, a' the lee-lang day, in love-sick grief I pined;
And at midnicht's dreamy hour my sick heart socht its hame;—
But my time was thrown awa', for I couldna settle doon
Till I wan back again to our ain auld toon.
For youth's first smile o'love had begun to warm my heart;
And though I left our ain auld toon, my heart was left behind;
And my thochts dwelt aye on ane, and I liked to lisp her name;
And, a' the lee-lang day, in love-sick grief I pined;
And at midnicht's dreamy hour my sick heart socht its hame;—
But my time was thrown awa', for I couldna settle doon
Till I wan back again to our ain auld toon.
O love, ye are a bonnie thing when ye are young and new;
Ye saften a' within us, and ye mak' us pure and true;
And ye flush'd ower my young heart sae bonilie the while,
Like a smile upo' the face of a bairn when asleep;
For like a smile ye gather'd, but ye faded like a smile!
And I ken na why ye faded, since ye were sae pure and deep.—
Though my hour o'love was lang, yet it left me unco soon!
Now its friendship mak's me wae to leave our ain auld toon.
Ye saften a' within us, and ye mak' us pure and true;
And ye flush'd ower my young heart sae bonilie the while,
Like a smile upo' the face of a bairn when asleep;
For like a smile ye gather'd, but ye faded like a smile!
And I ken na why ye faded, since ye were sae pure and deep.—
Though my hour o'love was lang, yet it left me unco soon!
Now its friendship mak's me wae to leave our ain auld toon.
But the boat has left the pier, and she waddles ower the firth,
And our ain auld toon to me seems the bonniest spot on earth:
My friends seem dearer too, though to me they aye were dear;
And the joys I've haen wi' them come again upo' my mind:
How can I do but greet to see them on the pier,
As they daunder slowly up, and wave and look behind?
And when I think on what I've dune, my heart it gi'es a stoun'—
O, am I no a fule to leave our ain auld toon?
And our ain auld toon to me seems the bonniest spot on earth:
My friends seem dearer too, though to me they aye were dear;
And the joys I've haen wi' them come again upo' my mind:
How can I do but greet to see them on the pier,
As they daunder slowly up, and wave and look behind?
346
O, am I no a fule to leave our ain auld toon?
Now we maun leave the boat, for the water we ha'e crost;
And amid the hurry-burry I seem as I were lost:
I dinna hear around me the traveller's reproach
On some unlucky chields that against his wish ha'e ackit:
While I should see my luggage safely carried to the coach,
I leav't to ony ane that may ha'e the will to tak' it.
Nae guard, nae coachman, do I see, nor hear the trumpet's soun'—
My heart, my soul is centred in our ain auld toon!
And amid the hurry-burry I seem as I were lost:
I dinna hear around me the traveller's reproach
On some unlucky chields that against his wish ha'e ackit:
While I should see my luggage safely carried to the coach,
I leav't to ony ane that may ha'e the will to tak' it.
Nae guard, nae coachman, do I see, nor hear the trumpet's soun'—
My heart, my soul is centred in our ain auld toon!
I am mounted on the coach, high upo' the backmost seat;
And the crackin' o' the whup, and the gallopin' o' feet,
And the soundin' o' the horn, and the birrin' o' the wheels,
Tend to alter for a while the tenour o' my mind.
We pass by mony a scene, but my heart nae interest feels;
There's just ae scene that I care for, to a' the rest I'm blind;
And at ilk heicht upon the road, I rise and look aroun',
Just to get anither sicht of our ain auld toon!
And the crackin' o' the whup, and the gallopin' o' feet,
And the soundin' o' the horn, and the birrin' o' the wheels,
Tend to alter for a while the tenour o' my mind.
We pass by mony a scene, but my heart nae interest feels;
There's just ae scene that I care for, to a' the rest I'm blind;
And at ilk heicht upon the road, I rise and look aroun',
Just to get anither sicht of our ain auld toon!
But I shanna see't again, for we're past the hinmost heicht,
And e'en the very Law, it has nodded out o' sicht!
I look fu' lang and wistfully upo' yon cloud o' smoke
That hovers ower the spot where the dear auld toon doth lie!
O my heart is grite and sair, and I feel as I wad choke!
I wad greet, but wad be seen, and I fain wad hide the sigh;
But I canna keep it in, as I turn and sit me doon,
For I canna get ae blink of our ain auld toon!
And e'en the very Law, it has nodded out o' sicht!
I look fu' lang and wistfully upo' yon cloud o' smoke
That hovers ower the spot where the dear auld toon doth lie!
O my heart is grite and sair, and I feel as I wad choke!
347
But I canna keep it in, as I turn and sit me doon,
For I canna get ae blink of our ain auld toon!
Our ain auld toon! O, our ain auld toon!
There is magic in the name, there is music in the soun'!
Though vanish'd from my sight, I can image it in thought,
And live again the happy days that I have lived before;
And in my dreams by night I will seek the blessed spot,
Though I should wake to sorrowing upon a foreign shore!
O the sun may cease to sheene, and the warld to rin roun';
But I never, never can forget our ain auld toon!
There is magic in the name, there is music in the soun'!
Though vanish'd from my sight, I can image it in thought,
And live again the happy days that I have lived before;
And in my dreams by night I will seek the blessed spot,
Though I should wake to sorrowing upon a foreign shore!
O the sun may cease to sheene, and the warld to rin roun';
But I never, never can forget our ain auld toon!
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