Ye daisied glens and briery braes,
Haunts of my happy early days,
Where oft I 've pu'd the blossom'd slaes
And flow'rets fair,
Before my heart was scathed wi' waes
Or worldly care.
Now recollection's airy train
Shoots through my heart with pleasing pain,
And streamlet, mountain, rock, or plain,
Like friends appear,
That, lang, lang lost, now found again,
Are doubly dear.
But many a dauted object 's fled;
Low lies my once paternal shed;
Rank hemlocks wild, and weeds, o'erspread
The ruin'd heap;
Unstirr'd by cheerful tongue or tread,
The echoes sleep.
Yon bonnie burn, whose limpid streams,
When warm'd with summer's glowing beams,
Have often laved my tender limbs,
When my employ
Was chasing childhood's airy whims
From joy to joy.
Upon yon green, at gloamin' gray,
I 've often join'd in cheerful play,
Wi' comrades guileless, blithe, and gay,
Whose magic art,
Remember'd at this distant day,
Still warms the heart.
Ah, cronies dear! for ever lost!
Abroad on life's rough ocean toss'd,
By adverse winds and currents cross'd,
By watching worn,
Some landed on that silent coast,
Ne'er to return!
Howe'er the path of life may lie,
If poorly low, or proudly high,
When scenes of childhood meet our eye,
Their charms we own,
And yield the tribute of a sigh
To days long gone.