Far or near no one knew—none would now remember
Where she wandered no one knew—none will ever know;
Somewhere Spring must give her flowers, somewhere white December
Calls her from the moorland to her playthings through the snow.
MY LADDIE'S HOUNDS: MARGUERITE ELIZABETH EASTER
They are my laddie's hounds
That rin the wood at brak o' day.
Wha is it taks them hence? Can ony say
Wha is it taks my laddie's hounds
At brak o' day?
They cleek aff thegither,
And then fa' back, wi' room atween
For ane to walk; sae aften, I hae seen
The baith cleek aff thegither
Wi' ane atween!
And when toward the pines
Up yonder lane they loup alang
I see ae laddie brent and strang,
I see ae laddie loup alang
Toward the pines.
I follow them in mind
Ilk time; right weel I ken the way,—
They thrid the wood, an' speel the staney brae
An' skir the field; I follow them,
I ken the way.
They daddle at the creek,
Whaur down fra aff the reachin'-logs
I stoup, wi' my dear laddie, and the dogs,
An' drink o' springs that spait the creek
Maist to the logs.
He's but a bairn, atho'
He hunts the mountain's lonely bree,
His doggies' ears abune their brows wi' glee
He ties; he's but a bairn, atho'
He hunts the bree.
Fu' length they a' stretch out
Upon ae bink that green trees hap
In shade. He whusslits saft; the beagles nap
Wi' een half shut, a stretchin' out
Whaur green trees hap.
And noo he fades awa'
Frae 'tween the twa—into the blue.
My sight gats blind; gude Lord, it isna true
That he has gane for aye awa
Into the blue!