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!

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