Ye sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie, To follow the noble vocation; Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another To sit in that honoured station. I've little to say, but only to pray, As praying's the ton of your fashion; A prayer from thee Muse you well may excuse 'Tis seldom her favourite passion. Ye powers who preside o'er the wind, and the tide, Who marked each element's border; Who formed this frame with beneficent aim, Whose sovereign statute is order: -- Within this dear mansion, may wayward Contention Or withered Envy ne'er enter; May secrecy round be the mystical bound, And brotherly Love be the centre! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRIDAL SONG by GEORGE CHAPMAN (1559-1634) THE CHURCH OF A DREAM; TO BERNHARD BERENSON by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON THE TWO TREES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SUMMER RAINSTORM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN SARCOPSYLLA PENETRANS by ALTA WRENWICK BROWN BEAUTIFUL HANDS by INA LADD BROWN |