C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Auld House
By Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne (1766–1845)
O
What though the rooms were wee?
Oh! kind hearts were dwelling there,
And bairnies fu’ o’ glee;
The wild rose and the jessamine
Still hang upon the wa’:
How mony cherished memories
Do they, sweet flowers, reca’!
Sae canty, kind, and crouse,—
How mony did he welcome to
His ain wee dear auld house;
And the leddy too, sae genty,
There sheltered Scotland’s heir,
And clipt a lock wi’ her ain hand,
Frae his lang yellow hair.
The bluebells sweetly blaw,
The bonny Earn’s clear winding still,
But the auld house is awa’.
The auld house, the auld house,—
Deserted though ye be,
There ne’er can be a new house
Will seem sae fair to me.
The bairnies liked to see;
And oh, how aften did they speir
When ripe they a’ wad be!
The voices sweet, the wee bit feet
Aye rinnin’ here and there,
The merry shout—oh! whiles we greet
To think we’ll hear nae mair.
Some to the Indies gane,
And ane, alas! to her lang hame:
Not here we’ll meet again.
The kirkyaird, the kirkyaird!
Wi’ flowers o’ every hue,
Sheltered by the holly’s shade
An’ the dark sombre yew.
How glorious it gaed doon;
The cloudy splendor raised our hearts
To cloudless skies aboon.
The auld dial, the auld dial!
It tauld how time did pass:
The wintry winds hae dung it doon,
Now hid ’mang weeds and grass.