YE sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
To follow the noble vocation;
Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
To sit in that honoured station.
I’ve little to say, but only to pray,
As praying’s the ton of your fashion;
A prayer from thee Muse you well may excuse
‘Tis seldom her favourite passion.
Ye powers who preside o’er the wind, and the tide,
Who markèd each element’s border;
Who formed this frame with beneficent aim,
Whose sovereign statute is order:-
Within this dear mansion, may wayward Contention
Or witherèd Envy ne’er enter;
May secrecy round be the mystical bound,
And brotherly Love be the centre!
(Robert Burns)
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Based on Topics: Prayers Poems, Work & Career Poems, Passion Poems, Fashion PoemsBased on Keywords: pray, mother, aim, noble, marked, station, centre, sons, frame, scarce, withered