Volume V Part 36 (2/2)
'Tis the fa' o' the leaf, and the cauld winds are blawin', The wee birds, a' sangless, are dowie and wae; The green leaf is sear, an' the brown leaf is fa'in', Wan Nature lamentin' o'er simmer's decay.
Noo drumlie an' dark row the siller-like waters, No a gowden-e'ed gowan on a' the green lea; Her snell breath, wi' anger, in darkness noo scatters The wee flowers, that danced to the sang o' the bee.
The green leaves o' simmer sing hopefu' an' cheerie, When bonnie they smile in the sun's gowden ray; But dowie when sear leaves in autumn winds eerie Sigh, ”Life, love, and beauty, as flowers ye decay.”
How waefu' the heart, where young hopes that gather, Like spring-flowers in simmer, ”are a' wede awa';”
An' the rose-bloom o' beauty, e'er autumn winds wither, Like green leaves unfaded, lie cauld in the snaw:
But waefu' to see, as a naked tree lanely, Man shake like a wan leaf in poort.i.th's cauld blast; The last o' his kin, sighin', ”Autumn is gane by,”
An' the wrinkles o' eild tell ”his simmer is past.”
The fire that 's blawn out, ance mair may be lighted, An' a wee spark o' hope in the cauld heart may burn; An' the ”morning star” break on the traveller benighted, An' day, wi' its fresh gus.h.i.+ng glories, return:
But dool, dool the fa', when shakes the clay s.h.i.+elin', An' the last keek o' day sets for ever in night!
When no ae wee star through the dark clud is stealin', Through the cauld wave o' death, his dark spirit to light.
The spring flowers o' life, a' sae blythesome and bonnie, Though wither'd and torn frae the heart far awa', An' the flower we thought fadeless, the fairest o' onie, May spring up again whar nae freezin' winds blaw.
Kin' spring 'll woo back the green ”bud to the timmer,”
Its heart burst in blossom 'neath simmer's warm breath; But when shall the warm blush o' life's faded simmer Bring back the rose-bloom frae the winter o' death?
How kin' should the heart be, aye warm an' forgi'en, When sune, like a leaf, we maun a' fade awa'; When life's winter day as a shadow is fleein'-- But simmer aye s.h.i.+nes whar nae autumn leaves fa'!
THE AULD KIRK-YARD.
Calm sleep the village dead In the auld kirk-yard; But softly, slowly tread In the auld kirk-yard; For the weary, weary rest, Wi' the green turf on their breast, And the ashes o' the blest Flower the auld kirk-yard.
Oh! many a tale it hath, The auld kirk-yard, Of life's crooked th.o.r.n.y path To the auld kirk-yard.
But mortality's thick gloom Clouds the sunny world's bloom, Veils the mystery of doom, In the auld kirk-yard.
A thousand memories spring In the auld kirk-yard, Though time's death-brooding wing Shade the auld kirk-yard.
The light of many a hearth, Its music and its mirth, Sleep in the deep dark earth Of the auld kirk-yard.
Nae dreams disturb their sleep In the auld kirk-yard; They hear nae kindred weep In the auld kirk-yard.
The sire, with silver hair, The mother's heart of care, The young, the gay, the fair, Crowd the auld kirk-yard.
So live that ye may lie In the auld kirk-yard, Wi' a pa.s.sport to the sky Frae the auld kirk-yard; That when thy sand is run, And life's weary warfare done, Ye may sing o' victory won Where there 's nae kirk-yard.
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