AFTER VISITING THEIR FATHER'S GRAVE,
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
Intemperance with less harm, beware!
But if your father's wit ye share,
Then, then, indeed,
Ye sons of Burns ! for watchful care
There will be need,
For honest men delight will take
To show you favour for his sake,
Will flatter you; and fool and rake
Your steps pursue ;
And of your father's name will make
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,
Each minute sweeter than before,
The redbreast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.
There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yield
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.
My sister ! ('tis a wish of mine)
Now that our morning meal is done,
Make haste, your morning task resign;
Come forth and feel the sun.
Edward will come with you ;-and pray,
Put on with speed your woodland dress;
And bring no book : for this one day
We'll give to idleness.
No joyless forms shall regulate
Our living calendar :
We from to-day, my friend, will date
The opening of the year.
Love, now a universal birth,
From heart to heart is stealing,
From earth to man, from man to earth :
- It is the hour of feeling.
One moment now may give us more
Than fifty years of reason :
Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.
Some silent laws our hearts may make,
Which they shall long obey ;
We for the year to come may take
Our temper from to-day.
And from the blessed power that rolls
About, below, above,
We'll frame the measure of our souls :
They shall be tuned to love.
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.
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,
A harbour and a hold;
Where thou, a wife and friend, shalt see
Thy own delightful days, and be
A light to young and old.
There, healthy as a shepherd-boy,
And treading among flowers of joy
Which at no season fade,
Thou, while thy babes around thee cling,
Shalt shew us how divine a thing
A woman may be made.
Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die,
Nor leave thee, when gray hairs are nigh,
A melancholy slave ;
But an old age serene and bright,
And lovely as a Lapland night,
Shall lead thee to thy grave.
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