Although at noon thy sun went down, yet still
It shineth, and for evermore shall shine.
Not Scotland’s sons alone, men’s hearts are thine
Who love thee, lofty son of song, and thrill
With pleasure as they see ” The Vision ” fill
Thy soul with power, the while they see her twine
The holly round thy head, O Poet mine,
” The polished leaves and berries red.” And till
Thy “gurgling” Ayr forsake “his pebbled shore,”
Till high-souled, priest-like fathers pray no more,
Nor read ” the sacred page,” thy lays shall yield
Rich vein of pathos, humour, dignity ;
Still shalt thou show thy trembling sympathy,
And while the world shall last, still plough a fertile field.
(Gerard Addington D Arcy Irvine)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, World Poems, Sons Poems, Power Poems, Imagination & Visualization Poems, Jokes & Humor Poems, Dignity PoemsBased on Keywords: high-souled, priest-like