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488. Song—The Winter of Life

 BUT lately seen in gladsome green,
 The woods rejoic’d the day,
Thro’ gentle showers, the laughing flowers
 In double pride were gay:
But now our joys are fled
 On winter blasts awa;
Yet maiden May, in rich array,
 Again shall bring them a’.
But my white pow, nae kindly thowe Shall melt the snaws of Age; My trunk of eild, but buss or beild, Sinks in Time’s wintry rage.
Oh, Age has weary days, And nights o’ sleepless pain: Thou golden time, o’ Youthfu’ prime, Why comes thou not again!

Poem by Robert Burns
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