Poems by Robert Nicoll Second edition: with numerous additions, and a memoir of the author |
 | I. |
YOUTH'S DREAMS. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
 | Poems by Robert Nicoll |  |
YOUTH'S DREAMS.
A pleasant thing it is to mind
O' youthfu' thoughts an' things,—
To pu' the fruit that on the tree
Of Memory ripely hings,—
To live again the happiest hours
Of happy days gane by,—
To dream again as I ha'e dreamed
When I was herdin' kye!
O' youthfu' thoughts an' things,—
To pu' the fruit that on the tree
Of Memory ripely hings,—
To live again the happiest hours
Of happy days gane by,—
To dream again as I ha'e dreamed
When I was herdin' kye!
Thae days I thought that far awa',
Where hill an' sky seem met,
The bounds o' this maist glorious earth
On mountain-taps were set,—
That sun an' moon, an' blinkin' stars
Shone down frae Heaven high
To light earth's garden: sae I dream'd
When I was herdin' kye!
Where hill an' sky seem met,
The bounds o' this maist glorious earth
On mountain-taps were set,—
That sun an' moon, an' blinkin' stars
Shone down frae Heaven high
To light earth's garden: sae I dream'd
When I was herdin' kye!
6
I thought the little burnies ran,
An' sang the while to me!
To glad me, flowers cam' on the earth
And leaves upon the tree,—
An' heather on the muirland grew,
An' tarns in glens did lie:
Of beauteous things like these I dream'd
When I was herdin' kye!
An' sang the while to me!
To glad me, flowers cam' on the earth
And leaves upon the tree,—
An' heather on the muirland grew,
An' tarns in glens did lie:
Of beauteous things like these I dream'd
When I was herdin' kye!
Sae weel I lo'ed a' things of earth!—
The trees—the buds—the flowers—
The sun—the moon—the lochs an' glens—
The spring's an' summer's hours!
A wither'd woodland twig would bring
The tears into my eye:—
Laugh on! but there are souls of love
In laddies herdin' kye!
The trees—the buds—the flowers—
The sun—the moon—the lochs an' glens—
The spring's an' summer's hours!
A wither'd woodland twig would bring
The tears into my eye:—
Laugh on! but there are souls of love
In laddies herdin' kye!
O! weel I mind how I would muse,
An' think, had I the power,
How happy, happy I would make
Ilk heart the warld o'er!
The gift, unendin' happiness—
The joyful giver I!—
So pure an' holy were my dreams
When I was herdin' kye!
An' think, had I the power,
How happy, happy I would make
Ilk heart the warld o'er!
The gift, unendin' happiness—
The joyful giver I!—
So pure an' holy were my dreams
When I was herdin' kye!
A silver stream o' purest love
Ran through my bosom then;
It yearn'd to bless all human things—
To love all living men!
Yet scornfully the thoughtless fool
Would pass the laddie by:
But, O! I bless the happy time
When I was herdin' kye!
Ran through my bosom then;
It yearn'd to bless all human things—
To love all living men!
7
Would pass the laddie by:
But, O! I bless the happy time
When I was herdin' kye!
| Poems by Robert Nicoll | |