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TO THE SONS OF BURNS,
AFTER VISITING THEIR FATHER'S GRAVE,
(AUGUST 14, 1803.)
Ye now are panting up life's hill ! 'Tis twilight time of good and ill, And more than common strength and skill
Must ye display, If ye would give the better will
Its lawful sway.
Strong-bodied if ye be to bear
Then, then, indeed,
There will be need,
For honest men delight will take
Your steps pursue ;
A snare for you.
Let no mean hope your souls enslave; Be independent, generous, brave ! Your father such example gave,
And such revere ! But be admonished by his grave, –
And think, and fear! TO MY SISTER.
WRITTEN AT A SMALL DISTANCE FROM MY HOUSE, AND
SENT BY MY LITTLE BOY.
It is the first mild day of March,
There is a blessing in the air,
My sister ! ('tis a wish of mine)
Edward will come with you ;-and pray,
No joyless forms shall regulate
Love, now a universal birth,
One moment now may give us more
Some silent laws our hearts may make,
And from the blessed power that rolls
Then come, my sister ! come, I pray With speed put on your woodland dress ; -And bring no book; for this one day We'll give to idleness.
TO A YOUNG LADY,
WHO HAD BEEN REPROACHED FOR AKING LONG WALKS
IN THE COUNTRY,
DEAR child of nature, let them rail !
- There is a nest in a green dale,
There, healthy as a shepherd-boy,
Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die,