Wi' souls of the dearest ye're mingling then;
The gowd light o' mornin' is lightless to thee,
But, oh! for the night wi' its ghost revelrie.
William Thom.
35. Come, stir the fire, and close the shutters fast;
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round;
And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So will you welcome cheerful evening in.