Classic Poem

The Daggy Day

The pale sun glints ower the heigh black houses
Wi' a hazy brow, an' a drumlie ee;
The cauld clud o' sleet dissolves an' oozes
Through a' the abodes o' chill penury:
The bare-fitted bairnies, hardy an' wee,
Tot ower the causey, sae slippy an' daggy,
Wi' grannie's wee pickle sugar an' tea,
Or the sour-milk can, an' sma' meal baggy—
Alack! but the stock is e'en scrimpit an' scraggy.

The sun has gane down, he downa appear,
An' even the daylight snoozing dozes;
Puir shiverin' wretches, meagre an' drear,
Stand at the taps o' the laigh-brow'd closes;
An' tears, a' dyed wi' yestreen's fause roses,
Their sallow faces trickle adown:
While her wiles an' wants, lean Vice discloses,
In the tatter'd shreds o' each faded gown,
And grim an' ghastly death lurks in each haggard frown.

Frae the lang dark stairs o' each close an' wynd
The beggars come hirplin' an' bauchlin' out;
They fain to be cripple, they fain to be blind,
When ower the doorstane they set their snout;
While some, wha for weeks hae been housed wi' mout,
Get happit in big coat or raughan grey,
An a' set out on their weel huntit rout,
Kennin' few hearts can send them away
Unserved frae their doors on siccan an eerie day.

The day daggles on—an' but few are seen,
Save them wha maun seek a hame in the street;
The jaded coal horses, scranky an' lean,
Are a' droukit through wi' the cauld raw sleet,
Nae wreathing o' smoke tokens inward heat,
But ilka rib sticks through their lank thin hides,
Their red-faced drivers breathe steam through the weet,
That bodes a fire in their drouthy insides,
Wad swallow ocean up, unslaked wi' a' its tides.

In ilka heigh attic, an' laigh dark door,
In ilka slee corner an' shelter'd nook,
Are drowsy faces a' peeping out ower
Wi' surly brow an' wi' girnigo look:
The window gaes up, the head gies a jouk,
Syne doun fa's the sash wi' rickety din;
While some gape an' gaunt, an' some spell a book,
An' some frae their thoughts strive pleasure to win;
But there's little comes out, whaur there's little gaes in.

The day dwines awa', and the night comes on,
The smeekit sleet fa'in' faster and faster,
Till the wind begins wi' low hollow moan,
Swelling out to a snoring sou-waster;
Scotch skies are dour, but the wind their master,
Will clear the stars frae the cluds through the night,
An' this daggy day will serve to foster
Love for the mornin', all radiant and bright,
That will steek out the darkness, an' let in the light.

An' the sun shall arise ower the gude auld town,
Wi' a braid brent brow, an' a sparklin' ee;
An' Nature shall wauk frae her winter swoon,
And the young buds shall prick thro' the steeve auld tree,
An' the wee birds shall chirp fu' merrily,
An' the weans shall daff in their pranksome play;
An' the town's sweet face smilin' cheerily,
When kiss'd by the sun, like a bridegroom gay,
Shall blush like blooming bride, upon her bridal day.

Stand proud on thy summit, bold rock-built town,
Though whiles ower thy beauties dark clouds may lower,
Foul fa' the Scot wha wad whomle thee doun,
Forgetting thine ancient glory an' power;
The sun blinks bonnily after a shower,
The young wheat peeps green frae among the white snaw
And thou, Edina, sweet Freedom's strong tower,
Art dearer to me ilka time I'm awa',—
Exiled were I frae thee, my heart wad burst in twa.English