Poems and Songs By Robert Gilfillan. Fourth edition. With memoir of the author, and appendix of his latest pieces |
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AGAIN MY NATIVE COT APPEARS. |
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 | Poems and Songs |  |
118
AGAIN MY NATIVE COT APPEARS.
Again my native cot appears,
My early haunts appear in view:
How mony days, how mony years,
Hae fled, sin' last I gazed on you!
The bonnie woods are waving green,
An' flowers are blooming, just as fair
As if the simmer aye had been,
Sin' last I took my fareweel there!
My early haunts appear in view:
How mony days, how mony years,
Hae fled, sin' last I gazed on you!
The bonnie woods are waving green,
An' flowers are blooming, just as fair
As if the simmer aye had been,
Sin' last I took my fareweel there!
There stands the loch, as fresh an' clear,
There blossoms still the hawthorn tree,
But, ah! where are the voices dear
That 'neath its shade aye welcomed me?
The burnie rins as blithe alang
As it was wont in days bygane,
An', hark! there's still the blackbird's sang,
But, ah! I'm listening till't my lane!
There blossoms still the hawthorn tree,
But, ah! where are the voices dear
That 'neath its shade aye welcomed me?
The burnie rins as blithe alang
As it was wont in days bygane,
An', hark! there's still the blackbird's sang,
But, ah! I'm listening till't my lane!
119
How aft, in yonder plantin's glade,
I've pondered mony an hour an' day;
An' aften, 'mang yon braes, I've strayed
Wi' playmates, happy, young, and gay.
An' did I their glad faces see,
By sunny knowe or lanely glen,
(For ilka spot is dear to me!)
I'd think my boyhood come again!
I've pondered mony an hour an' day;
An' aften, 'mang yon braes, I've strayed
Wi' playmates, happy, young, and gay.
An' did I their glad faces see,
By sunny knowe or lanely glen,
(For ilka spot is dear to me!)
I'd think my boyhood come again!
How teems this hour wi' thoughts o' things
Lang past, though crowding into mind;
What sad emotions memory brings,
When nought save memory's left behind!
The birds, when simmer flees awa',
A' sympathize in plaintive strain;
But wha marks here these tears that fa'
For days lang fled, an' friends lang gane!
Lang past, though crowding into mind;
What sad emotions memory brings,
When nought save memory's left behind!
The birds, when simmer flees awa',
A' sympathize in plaintive strain;
But wha marks here these tears that fa'
For days lang fled, an' friends lang gane!
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