Song—Composed in Spring

Again rejoicing nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues, Her leafy looks wave in the breeze, All freshly steep'd in morning dews. And maun I still on Menie doat, And bear the scorn that's in her ee? For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk, An' it winna let a body be! In vain to me the cowslips blaw, In vain to me the vi'lets spring; In vain to me, in glen or shaw, The mavis and the lintwhite sing. And maun I still... The merry ploughboy cheers his team, Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks, But life to me 's a weary dream, A dream of ane that never wauks. And maun I still... The wanton coot the water skims, Among the reeds the ducklings cry, The stately swan majestic swims, And every thing is blest but I. And maun I still... The shepherd steeks his faulding slap, And owre the moorlands whistles shill, Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step, I meet him on the dewy hill. And maun I still... And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, Blythe waukens by the daisy's side, And mounts and sings on fluttering wings, A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide. And maun I still... Come, Winter, with thine angry howl, And raging bend the naked tree; Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul, When Nature all is sad like me! And maun I still...