the feather'd field-mates, bound by nature's tie,
sires, mothers, children, in one age lie:
(what warm, poetic heart but inly bleeds,
and execrates man's savage, ruthless deeds!)
nae mair the flow'r in field or meadow springs,
nae mair the grove with airy cert rings,
except perhaps the robin's whistling glee,
proud o' the height o' some bit half-ng tree:
the hoary morns precede the sunny days,
mild, calm, serene, wide spreads the noontide bze,
while thick the gosamour waves wanton in the rays.
'twas in that season, when a simple b
The Brigs Of Ayr(4/20)