 | Poems And Songs |  |
O happy aye should be that bard
Whase rhyme is ever blithely heard
At ae hearth-side. Wha fills ae heart
Wi' reverence for the glorious art,
Wha aiblins wi' his random rhymes
A glow o' feeling stirs at times,
Or waukens memories sweet and dear,
That dearer grow frae year to year,—
He shouldna grudge the blast o' fame
That wafts afar anither's name,
Nor envy those whose luckier quills
The purse wi' routh o' guineas fills.
While he—alas!
Whase rhyme is ever blithely heard
At ae hearth-side. Wha fills ae heart
Wi' reverence for the glorious art,
162
A glow o' feeling stirs at times,
Or waukens memories sweet and dear,
That dearer grow frae year to year,—
He shouldna grudge the blast o' fame
That wafts afar anither's name,
Nor envy those whose luckier quills
The purse wi' routh o' guineas fills.
While he—alas!
(Here comes the thought
O' every coof that writes for nought.)
O' every coof that writes for nought.)
| Poems And Songs | |