Our Holiday Among The Hills By James And Janet Logie Robertson |
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| [The shepherd Moses on the hillside saw] |
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| II. |
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| IV. |
 | Our Holiday Among The Hills |  |
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[The shepherd Moses on the hillside saw]
The
shepherd Moses on the hillside saw
A green buss bleezin', bleezin' aye awa';
Nae reek rase up, nae ashes fell adoun,
There was nae sough o' fire, nae cracklin' soun';
But clear an' constant was the steady flame,
An' unconsum'd the buss, an' aye the same.
A green buss bleezin', bleezin' aye awa';
Nae reek rase up, nae ashes fell adoun,
There was nae sough o' fire, nae cracklin' soun';
But clear an' constant was the steady flame,
An' unconsum'd the buss, an' aye the same.
Ye needna doot the shepherd glowred wi' awe
At sic a strange suspension o' the law
That dooms to swift destruction barn or byre,
Biggin' or buss that's grippit ance by fire.
In this he saw the presence o' his God,
An' felt the grund was holy whaur he trod.
That selfsame miracle does yet appear:
At sic a strange suspension o' the law
That dooms to swift destruction barn or byre,
Biggin' or buss that's grippit ance by fire.
In this he saw the presence o' his God,
An' felt the grund was holy whaur he trod.
We see it i' the spring o' every year,
When whin an' bonnier broom are fairly bloom'd,
An', wavin', burn the same an' unconsum'd
—But unregardit o' baith man an' woman,
Quite unregardit, for the sicht's sae common!
They see't a' gate—alangs' the public way,
In gowden beauty bleezin', bleezin' aye,
Till every hill-tap, craig, an' spritty knowe
Owre Scotland braid like flamin' altars lowe!
Yet wha draws near wi' reverential feet?
Or is there ane that worships but to see't?
Nae thocht is theirs that God's within the buss,
Or that the grund is holy brightened thus!
| Our Holiday Among The Hills | |