ANE by ane they gang awa', The Gaitherer gaithers great an' sma', Ane by ane mak's ane an' a'. Aye when ane sits doon the cup, Ane ahint maun tak' it up, Yet thegither they will sup. Golden-heided, ripe an' strang, Shorn will be the hairst ere lang, Syne begins a better sang! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A LADY WHO FANCIED HERSELF A BEAUTY by CHARLES SACKVILLE (1637-1706) THE STRANGER'S ALMS by HENRY ABBEY TO SIR JOHN SPENSER KNIGHTE, ALDERMAN OF LONDON by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE LAST MAN: RECOGNITION by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES TO ENGLAND (2) by GEORGE HENRY BOKER |