Trespassing

TRESPASSING

 The road was liker a burn :

But the trees in the glen were new in leaf,

Ilk bairn I met had a primrose sheaf,

And I couldna think to turn.

 

Was ever a road like yon !

But the flowers were thick and the birds in tune

In the lown at the back o’ the afternoon,

And aye they wiled me on.

 

If ye had seen my shoon !

But a muirfowl rase at my vera feet,

And I heard the whaup and the peesweep greet,

And the laverocks sang abune.

 

And oh ! but the air was sweet,

As hedge by hedge I slinkit about

Till I cam’ to a yett that loot me out –

I wasna blithe to see’t !

 

And I thocht as my han’ was thrang

Wi’ tates o’ fog at my glaury heel,

“ There’s never a road can please sae weel

As the road we sudna gang.”

 (Walter Wingate)

Poem of the month was selected by the Scottish Poetry Library.

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