NEW YEAR'S DAY [1790]

NEW YEAR'S DAY [1790]

TO MRS. DUNLOP

THIS day, Time winds th' exhausted chain;
To run the twelvemonths' length again:
I see the old, bald-pated fellow,

With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
Adjust the unimpair'd machine,

To wheel the equal, dull routine.
From housewife cares a minute borrow
(That grandchild's cap will do to-morrow),
And join with me a-moralising;
This day's propitious to be wise in.

First, what did yesternight deliver? 'Another year has gone for ever.' And what is this day's strong suggestion? "The passing moment's all we rest on!' Rest on-for what? what do we here? Or why regard the passing year? Will Time, amus'd with proverb'd lore, Add to our date one minute more? A few days may-a few years must― Repose us in the silent dust.

Then, is it wise to damp our bliss?
Yes-all such reasonings are amiss!
The voice of Nature loudly cries,
And many a message from the skies,
That something in us never dies:
That on this frail, uncertain state,
Hang matters of eternal weight:
That future life in worlds unknown
Must take its hue from this alone;
Whether as heavenly glory bright,
Or dark as Misery's woeful night.

Since then, my honour'd first of friends, On this poor being all depends; Let us th' important now employ, And live as those who never die.

AULD LANG SYNE

AULD LANG SYNE

SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

Chorus. For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!

And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,

For auld lang syne.

For auld, etc.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine;

But we've wander'd mony a weary fitt,

Sin' auld lang syne.

For auld, etc.

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn,

Frae morning sun till dine;

But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin' auld lang syne.

For auld, etc.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!

And gies a hand o' thine!

And we'll tak a right gude-willie waught,

For auld lang syne.

For auld, etc.

EPISTLE TO DAVIE: A BROTHER POET

EPISTLE TO DAVIE: A BROTHER POET

SELECTIONS

WHAT tho', like commoners of air,
We wander out, we know not where,
But either house or hal',

Yet nature's charms, the hills and woods,
The sweeping vales, and foaming floods,
Are free alike to all.

In days when daisies deck the ground,
And blackbirds whistle clear,
With honest joy our hearts will bound
To see the coming year:

On braes when we please then,
We'll sit an' sowth a tune;
Syne rhyme till't, we'll time till't,
An' sing't when we hae done.

It's no in titles nor in rank;
It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank,
To purchase peace and rest:

It's no in makin' muckle, mair;
It's no in books, it's no in lear,

To make us truly blest: