When silent time wi' lightly foot
Had trod on thirty years,
my native home I sought again,
Wi' mony hopes and fears.
Wha kens gin the dear friends I left
Will still continue mine?
Or gin I e'er again shall meet
The joys I left langsyne;
When I drew near my ancient pile
My heart bent a,' the way
Ilk place I passed seem'd yet to speak
O' some dear former day.
Those days that followed me afar-?
Those happy days o' mine?
Which made me think the joys of hand
Were naething to langsyne.
Those ivy'd towers now met my view,
Where minstrels used to blaw ;
Nae friend stept forth wi' open arms,
Nae well kent face I saw,
Till Donald totter'd to the door,
Whom I left in his prime,
And grat to see the lad come back
He bore about langsyne.
I ran through ilk weel-kent room,
In hopes to meet frien's there,
I saw where ilk ane used to sit,
And hung o'er ilka chair;
Till saft oblivion drew her veil
Across those e'en o' mine?
I steek'd the door and sabb'd aloud
When I thought o' langsyne.
A new sprung race o' motely kind
Would noo their welcome pay,
Wha shudder'd at my Gothic wa's,
And wish'd my groves away,
"Cut, cut," they cried "you mournafu' oak,
Lay low yon lofty pine,"?
" Ah, no !?your fathers' names grow there,
Memorials o' langsyne.
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Probable period of publication:
1830-1850 shelfmark: L.C.Fol.178.A.2(215)
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