It’s dowie in the hint o’ hairst,
At the wa-gang o’ the swallow,
When the wind grows cauld, and the burns grow bauld,
And the wuds are hingin’ yellow ;
But oh, it’s dowier far to see
The wa-gang o’ her the hert gangs wi’,
The deid-set o’ a shinin’ e’e –
That darkens the weary world on thee.
There was mickle love atween us twa –
Oh, twa could ne’er been fonder ;
And the thing on yird was never made,
That could ha’e gart us sunder.
But the way of Heaven’s abune a’ ken,
And we maun bear what it likes to sen’ –
It’s comfort, though, to weary men,
That the warst o’ this warld’s waes maun en’.
There’s mony things that come and gae,
Just kent, and syne forgotten ;
And the flowers that busk a bonnie brae,
Gin anither year lie rotten.
But the last look o’ that lovely e’e,
And the dying grip she ga’e to me,
They’re settled like eternitie –
Oh, Mary ! that I were wi’ thee.
(Hew Ainslie)
More Poetry from Hew Ainslie:
Hew Ainslie Poems based on Topics: Heaven, Flowers, Death & Dying, Man- The Hoosier (Hew Ainslie Poems)
- The Daft Days (Hew Ainslie Poems)
- Willie and Helen (Hew Ainslie Poems)
- Let's Drink to our next Meeting (Hew Ainslie Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Man Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Heaven Poems, Flowers PoemsBased on Keywords: waes, busk, warst, gart, dowie, hingin, eternitie, hairst, yird, wuds