BARE was our burn brae, December's blast had blawn, The last flow'r was dead, an' the brown leaf had fa'n: It was dark in the deep glen, hoary was our hill; An' the win' frae the cauld north cam heavy and chill: When I said fare-ye-weel, to my kith and my kin; My barque it lay a-head, an' my cot-house ahin'; I had nought left to tine, I'd a wide world to try; But my heart it widna lift, an' my e'e it widna dry. I look'd lang at the ha', through the mist o' my tears, Where the kind lassie lived I had ran wi' for years; E'en the glens where we sat, wi' their broom-cover'd knowes, Took a haud on this heart that I ne'er can unlowse. I ha'e wander'd sin' syne, by gay temples and towers, Where the ungather'd spice scents the breeze in their bowers; Oh! sic scenes I could leave without pain or regret; But the last look o' hame I can never forget. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER DEATH by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE PASSOVER IN THE HOLY FAMILY (FOR A DRAWING) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE BASE OF ALL METAPHYSICS by WALT WHITMAN TIPPERARY: 1. BY OUR OWN JAMES OPPENHEIM by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |