IT'S dowie in the hint o' hairst, At the wa-gang o' the swallow, When the win' grows cauld, and the burns grow bauld, And the wuds are hingin' yellow; But oh, it's dowier far to see The wa-gang o' her the heart gangs wi', The dead-set o' a shinin' ee -- That darkens the weary world on thee. There was mickle love atween us twa -- Oh, twa could ne'er be fonder; And the thing on yird was never made, That could ha'e gart us sunder. But the way of Heaven's abune a' ken, And we maun bear what it likes to sen' -- It's comfort, though, to weary men, That the warst o' this warld's waes maun en'. There's mony things that come and gae, Just kent, and just forgotten; And the flow'rs that busk a bonnie brae, Gin anither year lie rotten. But the last look o' that lovely e'e, And the dying grip she gave to me, They're settled like eternity -- Oh, Mary! that I were wi' thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEDICATION OF THE FIRST SONNETS TO A FRIEND ... by GEORGE SANTAYANA TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY by ROBERT BURNS THE ENAMEL GIRL by GENEVIEVE TAGGARD IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE COMING OF ARTHUR by ALFRED TENNYSON TO HIS HEART, BIDDING IT HAVE NO FEAR by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE MORAL FABLES: THE COCK AND THE FOX by AESOP |