OWRE a' Parnassus I hae wannert, Wi' beuk in han' I slowly daunert, An' aft baith hert an' een gaed dancin' Abune some bricht rock-crystal glancin' Amang the stanes or in the soil, That weel repaid me for my toil. To tell the truth I didna ettle To fin' sae muckle bardic mettle, Or pouch sae many bonny gems Amang the heather cowes an' stems That cleed oor Scotch Parnassian mountain, Adoon whilk rins Castalia's fountain. It's ca'd, ye ken, the Muse's Spring, Whaur drouthy poets drink and sing, Ere fame or fortune's haun' ye claucht, Ye first maun tak' a waly-waucht O' this same sang-inspirin' water— An' syne ye'll rhyme, an' sing, an' clatter. A waly-waucht gat Ayrshire Rab— It clear't his thrapple, cool't his gab, An' syne sae loud an' sweet he sang, That a' the warl' wi' echoes rang, Till on that kittle steed Pegasus He wan the tap o' mount Parnassus; An' there he sits, an' wha wull steer him? Nae ither singer e'er cam' near him— Frae neath the yirth, or on't abune, Nane e'er could lilt to Rabbie's tune. For me I ne'er cou'd fill my caup Oot o' the spring—a wee bit drap Was a' that e'er gaed owre my weasan— E'en noo my gab begins to geysan, An' sae I fin it maist expedient That I should say—yer maist obedient | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE WHITE FIENDS by CLAUDE MCKAY THE NEW SIRENS: A PALINODE by MATTHEW ARNOLD EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 44. TEARS THE SYMPTOM LOVE by PHILIP AYRES THE REASON by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) THE PAVANE by DORIS ELLEN BIESTERFELD A WEDDING MARCH by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT MORNING ON SHINNECOCK by OLIVA WARD BUSH FOURTH BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 1. A LITTLE BREATH I'LL BORROW by THOMAS CAMPION |