BARE was our burn brae, December's blast had blawn, The last flow'r was dead, an' the brown leaf had fa'n: It was dark in the deep glen, hoary was our hill; An' the win' frae the cauld north cam heavy and chill: When I said fare-ye-weel, to my kith and my kin; My barque it lay a-head, an' my cot-house ahin'; I had nought left to tine, I'd a wide world to try; But my heart it widna lift, an' my e'e it widna dry. I look'd lang at the ha', through the mist o' my tears, Where the kind lassie lived I had ran wi' for years; E'en the glens where we sat, wi' their broom-cover'd knowes, Took a haud on this heart that I ne'er can unlowse. I ha'e wander'd sin' syne, by gay temples and towers, Where the ungather'd spice scents the breeze in their bowers; Oh! sic scenes I could leave without pain or regret; But the last look o' hame I can never forget. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELEGY: 3. CHANGE by JOHN DONNE WHEN HE WOULD HAVE HIS VERSES READ by ROBERT HERRICK TICHBORNE'S ELEGY, WRITTEN IN THE TOWER BEFORE HIS EXECUTION by CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE TWO WOMEN by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 2 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |