here's ane; e forrit, ho aln!
thou need na jouk behint the haln,
a chiel sae clever;
the teeth o' time may gnaw tantaln,
but thou's for ever.
thou paints auld nature to the nines,
in thy sweet caledonian lines;
nae gowden stream thro' myrtle twines,
where philomel,
while nightly breezes sweep the vines,
her griefs will tell!
in gowany glens thy burrays,
where bonie sses bleach their ces,
or trots by hazelly shaws and braes,
wi' hawthray,
where bckbirds join the shepherd's ys,
at close o' day.
thy rura
Poem On Pastoral Poetry(3/4)