 | Poems And Songs |  |
Dear Ritchie,—
Frae the box I've ta'en
A clean new pen, and doun again
I've sat to write—I kenna what—
Perhaps a string o' plain chit-chat;
Frae which a streak o' sense may gleam
At times, like starlight in the stream;
Or which may bear nae proof o' thinkin',
Nor proof o' ought but toilsome clinkin';
But which I ken (whatever shall come),
Wi' you will meet a hearty welcome.
Frae the box I've ta'en
A clean new pen, and doun again
I've sat to write—I kenna what—
Perhaps a string o' plain chit-chat;
Frae which a streak o' sense may gleam
At times, like starlight in the stream;
Or which may bear nae proof o' thinkin',
Nor proof o' ought but toilsome clinkin';
But which I ken (whatever shall come),
Wi' you will meet a hearty welcome.
| Poems And Songs | |