101. Song—Composed in Spring

 AGAIN rejoicing Nature sees
 Her robe assume its vernal hues:
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
 All freshly steep’d in morning dews.



 Chorus.
—And maun I still on Menie doat,
 And bear the scorn that’s in her e’e?
 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, &c.



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, &c.



The wanton coot the water skims,
Amang the reeds the ducklings cry,
The stately swan majestic swims,
And ev’ry thing is blest but I.

 And maun I still, &c.



The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap,
And o’er the moorlands whistles shill:
Wi’ wild, unequal, wand’ring step,
I meet him on the dewy hill.

 And maun I still, &c.



And when the lark, ’tween light and dark,
Blythe waukens by the daisy’s side,
And mounts and sings on flittering wings,
A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.

 And maun I still, &c.



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, &c.

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