The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume Ii Part 69

For i' yon kirkyard there's a hillock, A hert whaur ance was a how; An' o' joy there's no left a mealock-- Deid aiss whaur ance was a low!

For i' yon kirkyard, i' the hillock, Lies a seed 'at winna grow.

It's my hert 'at hauds up the wee hillie-- That's hoo there's a how i' my breist; It's awa doon there wi' my Willie-- Gaed wi' him whan he was releast; It's doon i' the green-grown hillie, But I s' be efter it neist!

Come awa, nicht an' mornin, Come ooks, years, a' Time's clan: Ye're welcome: I'm no a bit scornin!

Tak me til him as fest as ye can.

Come awa, nicht an' mornin, Ye are wings o' a michty span!

For I ken he's luikin an' waitin, Luikin aye doon as I clim; An' I'll no hae him see me sit greitin I'stead o' gaein to him!

I'll step oot like ane sure o' a meetin, I'll travel an' rin to him.

_THE BURNIE_.

The water ran doon frae the heich hope-heid, _Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin_; It wimpled, an' waggled, an' sang a screed O' nonsense, an' wadna blin _Wi' its Rin, burnie, rin_.

Frae the hert o' the warl, wi' a swirl an' a sway, _An' a Rin, burnie, rin_, That water lap clear frae the dark til the day, An' singin awa did spin, _Wi' its Rin, burnie, rin_.

Ae wee bit mile frae the heich hope-heid _Wi' its Rin, burnie, rin_, Mang her yows an' her lammies the herd-la.s.sie stude, An' she loot a tear fa' in, _Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin_.

Frae the hert o' the maiden that tear-drap rase _Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin_; Wear'ly clim'in up weary ways There was but a drap to fa' in, Sae laith did that burnie rin.

Twa wee bit miles frae the heich hope-heid _Wi' its Rin, burnie, rin_, Doon creepit a cowerin streakie o' reid, An' it melt.i.t awa within The burnie 'at aye did rin.

Frae the hert o' a youth cam the tricklin reid, _Wi' its Rin, burnie, rin_; It ran an' ran till it left him deid, An' syne it dried up i' the win': That burnie nae mair did rin.

Whan the wimplin burn that frae three herts gaed _Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin_, Cam to the lip o' the sea sae braid, It curled an' groued wi' pain o' sin-- But it tuik that burnie in.

_HAME_.

The warl it's dott.i.t wi' hames As thick as gowans o' the green, Aye bonnier ilk ane nor the lave To him wha there opent his een.

An' mony an' bonny's the hame That lies neth auld Scotlan's crests, Her hills an' her mountains they are the sides O' a muckle nest o' nests.

His lies i' the dip o' a muir Wi' a twa three elder trees, A lanely cot wi' a sough o' win', An' a simmer b.u.m o' bees;

An' mine in a bloomin strath, Wi' a river rowin by, Wi' the green corn glintin i' the sun, An' a lowin o' the kye;

An' yours whaur the chimleys auld Stan up i' the gloamin pale Wi' the line o' a gran' sierra drawn On the lift as sharp's wi' a nail.

But whether by ingle-neuk On a creepie ye sookit yer thumb, Dreamin, an' watchin the blue peat-reek Wamle oot up the muckle lum,

Or yer wee feet sank i' the fur Afore a bleezin hearth, Wi' the curtains drawn, shuttin oot the toon-- Aberdeen, Auld Reekie, or Perth,

It's a naething, nor here nor there; Leal Scots are a'ane thegither!

Ilk ane has a hame, an' it's a' the same Whether in clover or heather!

An' the hert aye turns to the hame-- That's whaur oor ain folk wons; An' gien hame binna hame, the hert bauds ayont Abune the stars an' the suns.

For o' a' the hames there's a hame Herty an' warm an' wide, Whaur a' that maks hame ower the big roun earth Gangs til its hame to bide.

_THE SANG O' THE AULD FOWK._

Doon cam the sunbeams, and up gaed the stour, As we spangt ower the road at ten mile the hoor, The horse wasna timmer, the cart wasna strae, And little cared we for the burn or the brae.

We war young, and the hert in's was strang i' the loup, And deeper in yet was the courage and houp; The sun was gey aft in a clood, but the heat Cam throu, and dried saftly the doon fa'en weet.

Noo, the horsie's some tired, but the road's nae sae lang; The sun comes na oot, but he's no in a fang: The nicht's comin on, but hame's no far awa; We hae come a far road, but hae payit for a'.

For ane has been wi' us--and sometimes 'maist seen, Wha's cared for us better nor a' oor four e'en; He's cared for the horsie, the man, and the wife, And we're gaein hame to him for the rest o' oor life.

Doon comes the water, and up gangs nae stour; We creep ower the road at twa mile the hoor; But oor herts they are canty, for ane's to the fore Wha was and wha is and will be evermore.

_THE AULD MAN'S PRAYER_

Lord, I'm an auld man, An' I'm deein!

An' do what I can I canna help bein Some feart at the thoucht!

I'm no what I oucht!

An' thou art sae gran', Me but an auld man!

I haena gotten muckle Guid o' the warld; Though siller a puckle Thegither I hae harlt, Noo I maun be rid o' 't, The ill an' the guid o' 't!

An' I wud--I s' no back frae 't-- Rather put til 't nor tak frae 't!

It's a pity a body Coudna haud on here, Puttin cloddy to cloddy Till he had a bit lan' here!-- But eh I'm forgettin Whaur the tide's settin!

It'll pusion my prayer Till it's no worth a hair!

It's awfu, it's awfu To think 'at I'm gaein Whaur a' 's ower wi' the lawfu, Whaur's an en' til a' haein!

It's gruesome to en'

The thing 'at ye ken, An' gang to begin til What ye canna see intil!

Thou may weel turn awa, Lord, an' say it's a shame 'At noo I suld ca'

On thy licht-giein name Wha my lang life-time Wud no see a stime!

An' the fac' there's no fleein-- But hae pity--I'm deein!

I'm thine ain efter a'-- The waur shame I'm nae better!

Dinna sen' me awa, Dinna curse a puir cratur!

I never jist cheat.i.t-- I own I defeat.i.t, Gart his poverty tell On him 'at maun sell!

Oh that my probation Had lain i' some region Whaur was less consideration For gear mixt wi' religion!

It's the mixin the twa 'At jist ruins a'!

That kirk's the deil's place Whaur gear glorifees grace!