Classic Poem

Oh , MEM'RY , that ne'er lets the weary alane,
Keeps aye looking back owre the lang dreary main,
And, ere I'm aware,
I'm a laddie aince mair,
Wi' a' my wee cronies aroon' me again;
Aince mair in the land o' the bonnie green braes,
O' lovely May mornings, and lang simmer days,
O' gowans in show'rs,
O' lang gloamin' hours,
A land that's a' ringin' wi' legends and lays.

And oh, what a happy wee fairy-like train
As e'er ranged the woodland, the mountain, and plain!
We're aff to the nooks
Whaur the wee burnie jouks,
Mair happy than gin a' the earth were oor ain.
The cuckoo's proclaiming the presence o' spring,
The blackbird and mavis gar a' the woods ring,
And green linties hover,
And peesweep and plover,
And lav'rocks are singing aloft on the wing.

And there, in the sough o' the lane waterfa',
Among the fresh blooms o' the rowan and haw,
The auld Castle hoary
Is telling its story
O' lords and o' leddies a' deid an awa'.
We ken the wee wildings o' every hue
That glint 'mang the green grass a' wat wi' the dew;
The forms and the features
O' a' the glad creatures
That, free and unfetter'd, range a' the wood through.

And oh! wi' what joyous and wild beating breasts
We speel the old yews wi' the cusha-doos' nests,
Or by the fauld dyke
Hunt the foggy-bee's byke,
And never a' day lang a moment at rest.
We follow the Spring as she scatters her flow'rs,
And oh, hoo we revel amang the green bow'rs!
Nae care to pursue us,
The pines nodding to us,
While Time joins the dance o' the loud laughing hours,

Till the shadows o' gloaming aroun' us deep fa',
And the corncraik's beginnin' to set up her ca',
And the wee bleery mole
Peepeth oot o' his hole,
And the bat on the wing comes to warn us awa'.
Then hameward we gang 'neath the licht o' the mune,
Wha sails in her ocean o' azure abune,
Wi' sic love in her face
As if earth were a place
Where there never could be ony sorrow or sin.

Then we liv'd nearer heaven's great arching o' blue;
Then surely the heart was mair tender and true,
For we crush down the heart
Wi' our science and art,
Till we lose a' the glory o' life's early dew.
But I wake frae my vision, and oh! it seems vain,
For ah, tho' we crossed owre the wearifu' main,
Yet we couldna bring back
Our young herts owre the track,
Sae we'll never return to our Eden again.