Classic Poem

I wander'd out ae simmer's eve,
My mither's lanely grave to see:
My heart was dowie and did grieve;
The tremblin' tear stood in my e'e

Calm was the nicht — no e'en a breath
To fan the gowan on the lea;
At ither times I'd ha'e been laith,
But on that nicht I'd liked to dee.

Although the road was wild and lang,
I wander'd on, and wasna' fear'd;
For on that nicht my heart was strong,
And bore me to yon auld kirkyard.

Weel did I ken whereat to look, —
Near by yon auld, yon stately yew,
Where, shelter'd in a lanely nook,
The grass was hoary white wi' dew.

The auld yew-tree seem'd ghastly mute:
I made its droopin' branch my chair,
And, calm and saftly, on my flute,
Play'd ower my mither's favourite air.

Methocht the bended gravestanes rose,
The faulded flow'rets open'd wide,
As up amang the yew-tree boughs
My mither's favourite tune did glide!

That was enough — that mournfu' tune
Tauld a' the yearnings o' my heart;
It made me think o' lands abune,
It made auld recollections start

At length the cushat ceased to coo,
And gloamin' faded into gloom;
I mixed my tears amang the dew,
And, laithfu', left my mither's tomb.