E O C M h H（2 / 2）

urn, c&039;rg craiks at close o&039; day,

&039;ang fields o&039; flow&039;rg clover gay;

and when ye g your annual way

frae our cud shore,

tell thae far warlds wha lies cy,

wha we deplore

ye houlets, frae your ivy bow&039;r

auld tree, or eldritch tow&039;r,

what ti the oon, wi&039; silent glow&039;r,

sets up her horn,

wail thro&039; the dreary idnight hour,

till waukrife orn!

o rivers, forests, hills, and ps!

oft have ye heard y canty stras;

but now, what else for reas

but tales of woe;

and frae y een the drappg ras

aun ever flow

ourn, sprg, thou darlg of the year!

ilk wslip cup shall kep a tear:

thou, sir, while each rny spear

shoots up its head,

thy gay, green, flow&039;ry tresses shear,

for hi that&039;s dead!

thou, autun, wi&039; thy yellow hair,

grief thy sallow antle tear!

thou, ter, hurlg thro&039; the air

the roarg bst,

wide o&039;er the naked world decre

the worth we&039;ve lost!

ourn hi, thou sun, great urce of light!

ourn, epress of the silent night!

and you, ye klg starnies bright,

y atthew ourn!

for through your orbs he&039;s ta&039;en his flight,

ne&039;er to return

o hendern! the an! the brother!

and art thou gone, and gone for ever!

and hast thou crost that unknown river,

life&039;s dreary bound!

like thee, where shall i fd another,

the world around!

go to your sculptur&039;d tobs, ye great,

a&039; the tsel trash o&039; state!

but by thy honest turf i&039;ll wait,

thou an of worth!

and weep the ae best fellow&039;s fate

e&039;er y earth