Aquidneck a poem, pronounced on the hundredth anniversary Of the Incorporation of the Redwood Library Company, Newport, R. I. August XXIV. MDCCCXLVII. with other commemorative pieces |
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THE LOST CLOAK.
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THE LOST CLOAK.
Air—“Old Arm Chair.”
I've lost it! I've lost it! My frien's, 'tis nae joke
To lose, in mid-winter, a cosy auld cloak.
Like a frien' it had served me by night and by day,
And I fondly had thocht it wad last me for aye;
But I've lost it! I've lost it! oh terrible stroke
To lose sic a faithfu' auld camblet cloak!
To lose, in mid-winter, a cosy auld cloak.
Like a frien' it had served me by night and by day,
And I fondly had thocht it wad last me for aye;
But I've lost it! I've lost it! oh terrible stroke
To lose sic a faithfu' auld camblet cloak!
How oft in the wintry and pitiless night,
That auld shaggy black dog-skin drawn close round my sight,
I've braved the worst wrath of the wind and the weather!
Oh, my auld cloak an' I hae been fast frins thegither!
But I've lost it! I've lost it! my heart is not oak,
And I mourn for my faithfu' auld camblet cloak!
That auld shaggy black dog-skin drawn close round my sight,
I've braved the worst wrath of the wind and the weather!
Oh, my auld cloak an' I hae been fast frins thegither!
But I've lost it! I've lost it! my heart is not oak,
And I mourn for my faithfu' auld camblet cloak!
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At ilka fresh moan o' the searching blast,
My faithful old cloak wad but cling mair fast,
And tho' at times, when the wind blew high,
That wee cape's corner would whip my eye,
Yet I've lost it! I've lost it! And oh, 'tis nae joke
To love and to lose sic a faithful auld cloak!
My faithful old cloak wad but cling mair fast,
And tho' at times, when the wind blew high,
That wee cape's corner would whip my eye,
Yet I've lost it! I've lost it! And oh, 'tis nae joke
To love and to lose sic a faithful auld cloak!
To steal an auld cloak when the weather is cold,
(So writes the wise preacher, famed monarch of old)
Is like singing gay songs to a breaking heart.
Don't sing me: “The best of frins maun part”!
Fu' weel I ken it! My heart is not broke,
But I've lost and for ever a faithfu' auld cloak.
(So writes the wise preacher, famed monarch of old)
Is like singing gay songs to a breaking heart.
Don't sing me: “The best of frins maun part”!
Fu' weel I ken it! My heart is not broke,
But I've lost and for ever a faithfu' auld cloak.
Days—weeks—rolled by—and I hoped to see
That faithfu' auld garment come back to me:
Whole months have I waited—I've waited in vain,
I never shall see that auld crony again.
A voice from within me hath terribly spoke:
You've lost your faithfu' auld camblet cloak!
That faithfu' auld garment come back to me:
Whole months have I waited—I've waited in vain,
I never shall see that auld crony again.
A voice from within me hath terribly spoke:
You've lost your faithfu' auld camblet cloak!
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It never had entered my credulous heart
That friens sic as we could be fated to part.
Hope whispered, “That easy auld frin' on thy back
Shall never desert nor decay”—but alack!
'Twas only a dream, and I bitterly woke
To the loss of my faithfu' auld camblet cloak!
That friens sic as we could be fated to part.
Hope whispered, “That easy auld frin' on thy back
Shall never desert nor decay”—but alack!
'Twas only a dream, and I bitterly woke
To the loss of my faithfu' auld camblet cloak!
They said it was hamely; but oh! around
My warmest affections that cloak had wound;
They ca'd it scanty—'twas short, I know;
'Twad hae been lang enough ere I'd done with it, tho'.
But I'll have it nae longer—I've lost it—och!
I've lost sic a faithfu' auld camblet cloak.
My warmest affections that cloak had wound;
They ca'd it scanty—'twas short, I know;
'Twad hae been lang enough ere I'd done with it, tho'.
But I'll have it nae longer—I've lost it—och!
I've lost sic a faithfu' auld camblet cloak.
How I loved that auld cloak, and it was not because
The weel-worn camblet sae glossy-like was;
I loved it, but not for its beautiful blue;
I loved it because it was warm and true;
But alas! our best hopes are but pillars of smoke,
Fareweel to thee, faithfu' auld camblet cloak!
The weel-worn camblet sae glossy-like was;
I loved it, but not for its beautiful blue;
I loved it because it was warm and true;
But alas! our best hopes are but pillars of smoke,
Fareweel to thee, faithfu' auld camblet cloak!
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