NIE, HASTE, WE 'LL GO.[11]

Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go
To where the white-starr'd gowans grow,
Wi' the puddock-flower, o' gowden hue,
The snawdrap white, and the bonnie vi'let blue.

Sister Jeanie, haste, we 'll go
To where the blossom'd lilacs grow,
To where the pine-tree, dark an' high,
Is pointing its tap at the cloudless sky.

Jeanie, mony a merry lay
Is sung in the young-leaved woods to-day;
Flits on light wing the dragon-flee,
And hums on the flowerie the big red bee.

Down the burnie wirks its way
Aneath the bending birken spray,
An' wimples roun' the green moss-stane,
An' mourns, I kenna why, wi' a ceaseless mane.

Jeanie, come! thy days o' play
Wi' autumn tide shall pass away;
Sune shall these scenes, in darkness cast,
Be ravaged wild by the wild winter blast.

Though to thee a spring shall rise,
An' scenes as fair salute thine eyes;
An' though, through many a cloudless day,
My winsome Jean shall be heartsome and gay;

He wha grasps thy little hand
Nae langer at thy side shall stand,
Nor o'er the flower-besprinkled brae
Lead thee the lounnest an' the bonniest way.

Dost thou see yon yard sae green,
Speckled wi' mony a mossy stane?
A few short weeks o' pain shall fly,
An' asleep in that bed shall thy puir brother lie.

Then thy mither's tears awhile
May chide thy joy an' damp thy smile;
But soon ilk grief shall wear awa',
And I 'll be forgotten by ane an' by a'.

Dinna think the thought is sad;
Life vex'd me aft, but this maks glad;
When cauld my heart and closed my e'e,
Bonnie shall the dreams o' my slumbers be.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] These verses were composed when the author was suffering from a
severe pulmonary complaint which he feared would bring him to an early
grave. They were addressed to his sister, a girl of five years, who at
this period was his companion in his walks.

OH, SOFTLY SIGHS THE WESTLIN' BREEZE.

Oh, softly sighs the westlin' breeze
Through floweries pearl'd wi' dew;
An' brightly lemes the gowden sky,
That skirts the mountain blue.
An' sweet the birken trees amang,
Swells many a blithesome lay;
An' loud the bratlin burnie's voice
Comes soundin' up the brae.

But, ah! nae mair the sweets