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Poem by Robert Nicoll
A PLEASANT thing it is to mind O' youthfu' thoughts an' things,— To pu' the fruit that on the tree Of memory ripely hings,— To live again the happiest hours Of happy days gane by,— To dream again as I ha'e dreamed When I was herdin' kye! Thae days I thought, that far awa', Where hill an' sky seem met, The bounds o' this maist glorious earth On mountain-taps were set,— That sun an' moon, an' blinkin' stars Shone down frae heaven high To light earth's garden: sae I dreamed When I was herdin' kye! I thought the little burnies ran, An' sang the while to me! To glad me, flowers came on the earth And leaves upon the tree,— An' heather on the muirland grew, An' tarns in glens did lie: Of beauteous things like these I dreamed When I was herdin' kye! Sae weel I lo'ed a' things of earth!— The trees—the buds—the flowers— The sun—the moon—the lochs an' glens— The spring's an' summer's hours! A wither'd woodland twig would bring The tears into my eye:— Laugh on! but there are souls of love In laddies herdin' kye! O! weel I mind how I would muse, And think, had I the power, How happy, happy I would make Ilk heart the warld o'er! The gift unendin' happiness— The joyful giver I!— So pure and holy were my dreams When I was herdin' kye! A silver stream o' purest love Ran through my bosom then; It yearn'd to bless all human things— To love all living men; Yet scornfully the thoughtless fool Would pass the laddie by: But O! I bless the happy time When I was herdin' kye!
Robert Nicoll's other poems:
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