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"And there he sadly struggles on,
A heavy laden hack,
He's tempted to look back;
In unavailing tears,
The gloomy vale of years.
"Now see him bending on his staff,
His locks are thin and gray,
Is all a winter's day;
He cannot understand,
A stranger in the land.
"And o'er the happy days of youth,
He will, he must repine,
To what it was lang syne;
With faint and fitful gleam,
The living and the dead are mixed,
"But childhood's streams are laughing yet,
Its fields are fresh and fair, And now, a little boy again,
The old man wanders there; Then feeble as a little child,
Upon its mother's breast, Resignedly he leans his head,
And sinks into his rest."
THE GREAT OLD SEA.
All hail again Atlantic Sea,
I've sought thy sounding shore,
To look upon thy face again,
An awful world of wonder thou
With thy secret caves beneath the waves,
Thou'rt still the same mysterious deep,
Thou wert in days of yore,
I listened to thy roar;
When first I gazed on thee,
The iron rocks are rent by time,
The cliffs grow hoary with the years,
And generations pass away,
And when I'm gone thou'lt murmur
I love thee when the winds are laid,
And thou art all at rest,
Upon thy troubled breast,
What can I sing of thee, Thou myst'ry, thou infinity, Great great sea. I WINNA GAE HAME.
I whma gae back to my youthful haunts,
For they are nae langer fair, The spoiler has been in the glades so green,
And there's sad sad changes there; The plou' has been to the very brink,
O' the lovely Locher fa', And beauty has fled wi' the auld yew trees,
And the bonnie wee birds awa.
Young Spring aye cam the earliest there,
Alang wi' her dear cuckoo,
Wi' her lonely cushy-doo;
O' the bonnie gowany glen, For it's always Sabbath among the flours,
Awa' frae the haunts o' men.