urn, c&039;rg craiks at close o&039; day,
&039;ang fields o&039; flow&039;rg clover gay;
and when ye g your annual way
frae our cud shore,
tell thae far warlds wha lies cy,
wha we deplore
ye houlets, frae your ivy bow&039;r
auld tree, or eldritch tow&039;r,
what ti the oon, wi&039; silent glow&039;r,
sets up her horn,
wail thro&039; the dreary idnight hour,
till waukrife orn!
o rivers, forests, hills, and ps!
oft have ye heard y canty stras;
but now, what else for reas
but tales of woe;
and frae y een the drappg ras
aun ever flow
ourn, sprg, thou darlg of the year!
ilk wslip cup shall kep a tear:
thou, sir, while each rny spear
shoots up its head,
thy gay, green, flow&039;ry tresses shear,
for hi that&039;s dead!
thou, autun, wi&039; thy yellow hair,
grief thy sallow antle tear!
thou, ter, hurlg thro&039; the air
the roarg bst,
wide o&039;er the naked world decre
the worth we&039;ve lost!
ourn hi, thou sun, great urce of light!
ourn, epress of the silent night!
and you, ye klg starnies bright,
y atthew ourn!
for through your orbs he&039;s ta&039;en his flight,
ne&039;er to return
o hendern! the an! the brother!
and art thou gone, and gone for ever!
and hast thou crost that unknown river,
life&039;s dreary bound!
like thee, where shall i fd another,
the world around!
go to your sculptur&039;d tobs, ye great,
a&039; the tsel trash o&039; state!
but by thy honest turf i&039;ll wait,
thou an of worth!
and weep the ae best fellow&039;s fate
e&039;er y earth
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