Ah me! when the hours go joyfully by,
How little we stop to heed
Our brothers' and sisters' despairing cry
In their woe and their bitter need!
Yet such a world as the angels sought
This world of ours we'd call,
If the brotherly love that the Father taught;
Was felt by each for all.
Yet a few short years and this motley throng
Will all have passed away,
And the rich and the poor and the old and the young
Will be undistinguished clay.
And lips that laugh and lips that moan,
Shall in silence alike be sealed,
And some will lie under stately stone,
And some in the Potter's Field.
But the sun will be shining just as bright,
And so will the silver moon,
And just such a crowd will be here at night,
And just such a crowd at noon;
And men will be wicked and women will sin,
As ever since Adam's fall,
With the same old world to labour in,
And the same God over all.
* * * * *
HIGHLAND MARY.
Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry!
For there I took the last farewell
O' my sweet Highland Mary.
How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk!
How rich the hawthorn's blossom!
As, underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasped her to my bosom!
The golden hours, on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Wi' monie a vow, and locked embrace
Our parting was fu' tender';
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore ourselves asunder;
But oh! fell death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!
O pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kissed sae fondly!
And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now, in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still, within my bosom's core,
Shall live my Highland Mary.
Robert Burns.