 | Poems And Songs |  |
84
SPRING.
In the dull winter months, when the burnie runs broon,
And the chill dewless e'enin' sae soon gathers doon,
We aften despair o' the sure-coming spring,
Nor think how the woods will with love-warblings ring;
And, weary and sighfu', sit nursing our care,
Or gazing abroad on the fields bleak and bare.
And the chill dewless e'enin' sae soon gathers doon,
We aften despair o' the sure-coming spring,
Nor think how the woods will with love-warblings ring;
And, weary and sighfu', sit nursing our care,
Or gazing abroad on the fields bleak and bare.
But when the blithe birdies ance mair build and sing,
When buds and bright mornings proclaim the new spring,
We wonder we ever thought winter sae blae,
And beauties remember in mony a dark day;
And, yielding our souls to the spring's genial law,
Cry, “Winter's a shadow that soon flits awa'.”
When buds and bright mornings proclaim the new spring,
We wonder we ever thought winter sae blae,
And beauties remember in mony a dark day;
And, yielding our souls to the spring's genial law,
Cry, “Winter's a shadow that soon flits awa'.”
85
And so, when our life's lamp on earth doesna burn,
When, sheltered frae winter, our clay fills the urn,
Our souls, blest in regions of which we oft dreamed,
In regions that often owre fanciful seemed,
Will gaze on the trials we battled with here,
And brighter the world that we left will appear.
When, sheltered frae winter, our clay fills the urn,
Our souls, blest in regions of which we oft dreamed,
In regions that often owre fanciful seemed,
Will gaze on the trials we battled with here,
And brighter the world that we left will appear.
Why friends had grown cold we shall then see revealed,
While the dark springs of sorrow nae mair lie concealed—
So trivial they'll seem to the soul's searching eye,
We'll wonder they e'er cost a tear or a sigh;
Old friendships and loves will revive, and we'll feel
That all our misfortunes were planned for our weal.
While the dark springs of sorrow nae mair lie concealed—
So trivial they'll seem to the soul's searching eye,
We'll wonder they e'er cost a tear or a sigh;
Old friendships and loves will revive, and we'll feel
That all our misfortunes were planned for our weal.
Sweet Spring! 'tis but duty thy absence to mourn,
But duty with anthems to hail thy return!
Yet but for the stern reign of winter, how soon
Our souls, cloyed with beauty, would deem thee no boon;
Thy gowans, uncared for, would blush on the lea,
And thy haw-blossoms wither unsung on the tree.
But duty with anthems to hail thy return!
Yet but for the stern reign of winter, how soon
Our souls, cloyed with beauty, would deem thee no boon;
Thy gowans, uncared for, would blush on the lea,
And thy haw-blossoms wither unsung on the tree.
86
And thus, were our lives like one bright summer-day,
With no cloud of sorrow to darken our way,
The long term of joy would grow irksome at last,
We'd long for one sorrow—one wild wintry blast;
For joy owes its charm to its contrast with grief,
As shadow throws sunshine in brighter relief.
With no cloud of sorrow to darken our way,
The long term of joy would grow irksome at last,
We'd long for one sorrow—one wild wintry blast;
For joy owes its charm to its contrast with grief,
As shadow throws sunshine in brighter relief.
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