“Gratia cum nymphis geminisque sororibus audet
Ducere nuda choros.” – CAR. IV., 7.
AN’ noo ance mair the Lomon’
Has donn’d his mantle green,
An’ we may gang a-roamin’
Thro’ the fields at e’en;
–
An’ listen to the rustlin’
O’ green leaves i’ the shaw,
An’ hear the blackbird whistlin’
Winter weel awa’.
–
Sae mild’s the weather, Dauvit,
that was but late sae bauld,
We gang withoot a grauvit
CAreless o’ the cauld.
–
An’ juist the tither nicht, man,
Twa barefit Mays were seen
(It maun hae been a sicht, man!)
Dancin’ on the green.
–
It sets a body thinkin’
Hoo quick the moments fly,
Hoo fast the days gang linkin’ –
Spring ‘ill sune be by;
–
Then Simmer wi’ the roses,
Then Autumn wi’ the grain;
Then Winter comes an’ closes
A’ thing ance again!
–
An’ yet, tho’ short her range is,
Dame Nature’s never dune;
She just repeats the changes,
Just renews the tune.
–
The auld mune to her ruin
Gangs rowin’ doon the sky,
When, swith, a braw bran new ane
Cocks her horn on high!
–
Alas! when oor short mornin’
Slides doun the slope to nicht,
There’s neither tide nor turnin’
Back to life an’ licht.
–
We fa’ as fell oor faithers
Into the narra hame,
An’ fog forgetfu’ gaithers
Owre oor very name.
–
But what needs a’ this grievin’
For griefs we dinna feel?
Let’s leeve as lang’s we’re leevin’,
Lauch as lang’s we’re weel.
–
An’ if it’s gude i’ gloamin’
It’s better sune than syne
To rise an’ gang a-roamin’
Noo the weather’s fine.
