In Scotia’s isle much lov’d Dalkeith,
How have I wish’d to see
Its ancient spire, each lowly cot,
As it was wont to be.
This wish (in part) accomplished,
But fill’d my heart with woe,
The different aspect which it wears,
Oft cause the tears to flow.
For now where once the dwelling stood,
Of aunt who did me rear,
From infant days instruction gave,
And taught me to revere
Her conduct as a Christian friend,
Which gratitude demands
From me, as long as life doth last,
A stately fabric stands.
Although this structure doth excel.
With artchitect so rare,
In beauty and magnificence,
Few with it may compare,
Yet decorated thus superb,
To me its charms are fled,
For friends are gone, and social mate,
Are number’d with the dead.
Farewell those prospects of delight,
With life’s gay morn in view;
Cold apathy no cherish’d guest,
For ev’ry scene was new.
While we with jocund hearts improv’d,
Each pleasure then in store,
And night her sable mantle spread,
E’er we our sports gave o’er.
How oft by moon light on the green,
We danc’d the hours away,
Or tried our skill at some new feat,
We had acquired that day.
As jumping over the mill-dam,
When wheel was going round,
One false step, would have seal’d our doom,
That one had sure been drown’d.
And running o’er the stepping stones,
Just by the hanging leaves,
Or list’ning to the sound they made,
With every passing breeze.
Or travers’d oft the winding path,
That led to iron mill,
O’er wooden bridge, which safe conveyed
To where my friend did dwell.
And often when I there arriv’d,
Would Christiana find,
In the garden wat’ring flowers,
Or arbor cool reclin’d.
For she was wont there to retire,
And leave the giddy throng,
To meditate on matchless works
Of power supreme alone.
Who left this world in early age,
Now shines a saint in light,
Who knew her worth to say with me,
Her memory dear unite.
Whose social converse journeying on,
Remember’d oft I ween,
Thro’ life and usual haunts where we
E’er now, have happy been.
For scarcely had the sun arose,
When walking forth to view
The verdant field, the spangled thorn,
Bedeck’d with morning dew.
Or join the great Creator’s praise,
With birds from every spray,
Whose tuneful throats, a lesson teach,
To sing the vocal lay.
Or ramble through the woodland scene,
By Lougton or bridgend,
To gather strawberries that grew,
Spontaneous from their stem.
Or when our silk worms did engage
Our search for mulberry leaves,
Their labour in return for food,
Was always sure to please.
Like grain of mustard-seed or spots,
Those insects first appear,
Yet thousands from their silken stores,
Are clothed every year.
Each one retir’d to separate cell,
In work of different dye,
Employ’d, finish’d each web comes forth,
A charming Butterfly.
Example rare for those who would
Excel in useful art,
In solitude the place to learn
To act the brightest part.
Or seek the shade from noon-tide heat,
With unison of mind.
Alternate read historic page,
Till ev’ning rays declin’d.
These summer days sped swift away,
Nor did we think of home
Till town clock bell with usual peal,
Gave warning to return.
And when by winter fire we sat,
And plied our seam, or spun,
While some have told the merry tale,
And others they have sung.
Rosanna fair who died for love,
While all around did weep;
Each task perform’d for bed prepar’d,
And there felt fast asleep.
No lasting grief our youthful minds oppress’d,
For every night, we sunk in calm repose;
Nor carping care, that bane to peaceful rest,
We still with joy to meet each other rose,
Or hail’d the morning dawn.
(Margaretta Wedderburn)
More Poetry from Margaretta Wedderburn:
Margaretta Wedderburn Poems based on Topics: Mind, Love, Friendship, Power, Night, Place, Art, Age, Home, Light, Praise- Mary Queen Of Scots, An Historical Poem (Margaretta Wedderburn Poems)
- The Author's Farewell To Edinburgh.-1810. (Margaretta Wedderburn Poems)
- Scenes Of Youth, Or The Days Of Other Years,- 1809.- In Two Parts. (Margaretta Wedderburn Poems)
- The Sky, Or A Description Of A Fine Evening: August 17. 1808. (Margaretta Wedderburn Poems)
- An Address To My Friends, When It May Be Supposed, That They Have Read The Contents Of This (Margaretta Wedderburn Poems)
- The Effusions Of Sorrow. March The 12th, 1807. (Margaretta Wedderburn Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Love Poems, Night Poems, Light Poems, Mind Poems, Friendship Poems, Christianity Poems, Place Poems, Flowers Poems, Home Poems, Beauty Poems, Art PoemsBased on Keywords: carping, mustard-seed, mill-dam, dalkeith, christiana