Classic Poem

I.

The bell-throats o' the bonny birds ring,
 When the angler goes a-trolling;
The south wind waves his cheery wing,
 And gentle rains are falling.

II.

The white thorn bears its bridal wreath,
 When the angler goes a-trolling;
And hark! along the bloomy heath
 The plaintive plover calling!

III.

Breezy and brown the rivers glide,
 When the angler goes a-trolling;
The dark burns leave the green hill-side
 Among the pebbles brawling.

IV.

Upon the meadow, by the springs,
 The quieTherds are lolling;
All earth is full of happy things
 When the angler goes a-trolling!