WHAM at his birth wi' mournfu ' smile The Muse has ance regairdet, Shall ne'er in field o' battle toil To be with bays rewairdet. Yet shall he haunt, a lanely ghost, The placid battle plain To mourn the lives that there were lost, The loves that there were slain . Hoo caulder for thae stricken lives Maun mony a hearth hae been; Hoo blank to mony bairns an ' wives The social hoor at e'en! Nae hunter on the heather hills Bird -slaughterin ' shall he be, Nor fisher rivin ' fra the gills O'some puir troot his flee, Yet shall he love the dusky pools And speel the mountain stairs, Unburdened wi' the murderin ' tools O'guns an ' gauds an ' snares, O'erjoy'd to find attractions rife In Nature's ilka feature, And share the brotherhood of life With every happy creature , Oh, what avails a victor's name At close of battle clangour? This warld is far owre sma' for fame, And life owre short for anger. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY FATHER'S FACE by HAYDEN CARRUTH AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS WAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON STREET-CRIES: 7. A SONG OF LOVE by SIDNEY LANIER THE MAN WITH THE WOODEN LEG by KATHERINE MANSFIELD AT SAGAMORE HILL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CHARLES CARVILLE'S EYES by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |