THE aul' kirkyard!—the aul' kirkyard!— It's crowdit graves an' mossy stanes;— I've coft me there a lanely grave, In whilk I houp to lay my banes. A rosy brier hings ower the spat, An' there the mavis bigs her nest: Ye'll hear her sing at e'en an' morn, An' see her bonny speckled breast The shilfa an' the yeldrin there Mak' simmer haunt, an' hap an' sing Amang the flow'ry twigs that ower The lanely grave their blossoms fling. The e'e o' Heaven leuks brichtly doun Oot thro' the brier on simmer days; At nicht the sweet an' bonny mune Sheds doun her mildest, holiest rays. An' there my sainted mither lies— They laid her 'neath the brier to sleep; An' I, her wae an' weary bairn, Maun sune into her bosom creep. An' lang an' soun' my sleep shall be; I'll never wauken till I hear The trump o' God, that bids the deid Arise, an' at His bar appear. My he'rt is fu' an' unco sair At tales o' wrang, an' wrath, an' guilt; The flesh is creeping on my banes To hear o' a' the bluid that's spilt: To think hoo mony sinfu' sauls Are soopit aff the shores o' life— Unrepentant, unforgiven— By burnin' drink an' bluidy strife. O aul' kirkyard! O aul' kirkyard! Hoo aft ha'e I, wi' langin' e'en, Leuk't ower thy moulderin' wa' to see The grave aneath the brier sae green. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BEGGAR'S HOLIDAY, FR. BEGGAR'S BUSH by JOHN FLETCHER THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: HIAWATHA AND MUDJEKEEWIS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SONNET: 21 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL FOR CHARLIE'S SAKE by JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER TO MY MOTHER by EDGAR ALLAN POE WHERE GO THE BOATS? by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE MAGI by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |