Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A BALLAD OF MEMORIE, by JANET HAMILTON



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A BALLAD OF MEMORIE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Nae mair, alas! Nae mair I'll see young mornin's gowden hair
Last Line: Will shine as bricht, an' fa' as saft, when I hae gaen awa'.
Alternate Author Name(s): Hamilton, Janet Thompson
Subject(s): Memory; Past


NAE mair, alas! nae mair I'll see young mornin's gowden hair
Spread owre the lift -- the dawnin' sheen o' simmer mornin' fair!
Nae mair the heathery knowe I'll speel, an' see the sunbeams glancin',
Like fire-flauchts owre the loch's lane breast, owre whilk the breeze is
dancin'.

Nae mair I'll wander owre the braes, or thro' the birken shaw,
An' pu' the wild-wud flowers amang thy lanely glens, Roseha'!
How white the haw, how red the rose, how blue the hy'cinth bell,
Whaur fairy thim'les woo the bees in Tenach's brecken dell!

Nae mair when hinnysuckle hings her garlands on the trees,
And hinny breath o' heather bells comes glaffin' on the breeze;
Nor whan the burstin' birken buds, and sweetly scented brier,
Gie oot their sweets, nae pow'r hae they my dowie heart to cheer.

Nae mair I'll hear the cushie-doo, wi' voice o' tender wailin',
Pour out her plaint; nor laverock's sang, up mang the white clouds sailin';
The lappin' waves that kiss the shore, the music o' the streams,
The roarin' o' the linn nae mair I'll hear but in my dreams.

When a' the house are gane to sleep I sit my leefu' lane,
An' muse till fancy streaks her wing, an' I am young again.
Again I wander thro' the wuds, again I seem to sing
Some waefu' auld warld ballant strain till a' the echoes ring.

Again the same-white howlit's wing out owre my heid is flaffin',
When frae the nest 'mang Calder Craigs I fley't her wi' my daffin';
An' keekin' in the mavis' nest o' naked skuddies fu',
I feed wi' moolins out my pouch ilk gapin' hungry mou'.

Again I wander owre the lea, "an' pu' the gowans fine;"
Again I "paidle in the burn," but, oh! it's lang-sin-syne!
Again your faces blythe I see, your gladsome voices hear --
Frien's o' my youth -- a' gane! a' gane! an' I sit blin'lins here.

The stars o' memory lichts the past; but there's a licht abune
To cheer the darkness o' a life that maun be endit sune.
An' aft I think the gowden morn, an' purple gloamin' fa',
Will shine as bricht, an' fa' as saft, when I hae gaen awa'.





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