THE SCOTCH GATHERING.
Hurrah for Scotland's ancient flag!
Now floating on the breeze; Its every wave in vision paints
A clime beyond the seas.
And, as that music fills the air
Which breathes of mountain-steep, Our spirits wander back again
To where our fathers sleep.
Again we hear the dashing foam
Which plunges down the dell; Or ramble o'er the broomy knowes,
Or cull the sweet bluebell.
Or sit in restful gloaming-tide,
'Neath honeysuckle porch, And watch the tewhits winging low
Beyond the old, grey church,
As balmy breath of briar and thyme
Comes wafted o'er the moor, And sheds the gold, laburnum fringe
Upon its grassy floor.
Or linger by the martyrs' grave;
Or tread the hallowed sod Where Hope and Valour stoutly fought
For country and for God.