JEAKIE NORRISOU. I'VE wandered east, I've wandered west, But never, never can forget The luve o' life's young day! The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en May weel be black gin Yule; But blacker fa' awaits the heart O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, The thoochts o' bygane years Still fling their shadows ower my path, As memory idly summons up The blithe blinks o' langsyne. "Twas then we luvit ilk ither weel, "Twas then we twa did part; Sweet time, sad time! twa bairns at seule, Twa bairns, and but ae heart! "Twas then we sat on ae laigh bink, To leir ilk ither lear; And tones and looks and smiles were shed, Remembered evermair. I wonder, Jeanie, aften yet, When sitting on that bink, Cheek touchin' cheek, loof locked in loof, What our wee heads could think. When baith bent doun ower ae braid page, Wi' ae buik on our knee, Thy lips were on thy lesson, but My lesson was in thee. O, mind ye how we hung our heads, (The scule then skail't at noon,) When we ran off to speel the braes,The broomy braes o' June? My head rins round and round about, As ane by ane the thochts rush back O' scule-time and o' thee. O mornin' life! O mornin' luve ! O lichtsome days and lang, When hinnied hopes around our hearts Like simmer blossoms sprang! O, mind ye, luve, how aft we left The simmer leaves hung ower our heads, And in the gloamin o' the wood The throssil whusslit in the wood, And we with Nature's heart in tune, Concerted harmonies; And on the knowe abune the burn, For hours thegither sat In the silentness o' joy, till baith Ay, ay, dear Jeanie Morrison, Tears trinkled doun your cheek Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane Had ony power to speak! That was a time, a blessed time, When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gushed all feelings forth, Unsyllabled,-unsung! I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, Gin I hae been to thee As closely twined wi' earliest thochts, O, tell me gin their music fills Thine ear as it does mine! O, say gin e'er your heart grows grit I've wandered east, I've wandered west, I've borne a weary lot; But in my wanderings, far or near, Ye never were forgot. The fount that first burst frae this heart Still travels on its way; And channels deeper as it rins, The luve o' life's young day. O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Since we were sindered young, Did I but ken your heart still dreamed ROBERT GILFILLAN. 1798-1850. ROBERT GILFILLAN was born in Dunfermline, in Fifeshire. His parents were in a humble rank of life, his father being a small manufac turer. His mother was a woman of strong sense and high intellectual endowments. At the age of thirteen, he was bound as an apprentice in Leith to the trade of a cooper, at which he served the usual term of seven years. On the expiry of that period, he relinquished his trade, which it seems he never liked, and was for three years in a grocery store in Dunfermline. He subsequently went to Edinburgh, where he procured employment in mercantile life, and had opportunities of pursuing his studies under favorable circumstances. He seems to have resided in Edinburgh till his death, and the years spent there he ever characterized as the happiest of his existence. He attempted song writing when a mere boy, before he had removed from his native town, and while his spirits were yet fresh and buoyant. Gilfillan's biographer says of him: "He fills a place in Scottish poetry altogether distinct and different from any of the acknowledged masters of Scottish song. He is certainly not so universal as Burns, nor so broad and graphic a delineator of Scottish manners as Ramsay or Hogg, nor is he so keenly alive to the beauties of external nature as Robert Tannahill; but in his own peculiar walk, that of home and the domestic affections, he has shown a command of happy thought and imagery, in which it may be truly said, that he has not been excelled as a poet of nature by any of his predecessors, with the exception only of Burns himself." |