David Macbeth Moir

David Macbeth Moir Poems

David Macbeth Moir Biography

David Macbeth Moir (5 January 1798 - 6 July 1851), Scottish physician and writer, was born at Musselburgh. He studied medicine at the University of Edinburgh, taking his degree in 1816. Entering into partnership with a Musselburgh doctor he practised there until his death. He was a contributor of both prose and verse to the magazines, and particularly, with the signature of Delta, to Blackwood's Magazine. His life is featured in the book, The “Blackwood” Group by Sir George Douglas, Edinburgh: Oliphant, Anderson & Ferrier, 1897. A collection of his poetry was edited in 1852 by Thomas Aird. Among his publications were the famous Life of Mansie Wauch, Tailor (1828), which shows his gifts as a humorist, Outlines of the Ancient History of Medicine (1831), and Sketch of the Poetical Literature of the Past Half Century (1851).)

The Best Poem Of David Macbeth Moir

The Rustic Lad's Lament In The Town

O, wad that my time were owre but,
Wi' this wintry sleet and snaw,
That I might see our house again,
I' the bonnie birken shaw!
For this is no my ain life,
And I peak and pine away
Wi' the thochts o' hame and the young flowers,
In the glad green month of May.

I used to wauk in the morning
Wi' the loud sang o' the lark,
And the whistling o' the ploughman lads,
As they gaed to their wark;
I used to wear the bit young lambs
Frae the tod and the roaring stream;
But the warld is changed, and a' thing now
To me seems like a dream.

There are busy crowds around me,
On ilka lang dull street;
Yet, though sae mony surround me,
I ken na are I meet:
And I think o' kind kent faces,
And o' blithe an' cheery days,
When I wandered out wi' our ain folk,
Out owre the simmer braes.

Waes me, for my heart is breaking!
I think o' my brither sma',
And on my sister greeting,
When I cam frae hame awa.
And O, how my mither sobbit,
As she shook me by the hand,
When I left the door o' our auld house,
To come to this stranger land.

There's nae hame like our ain hame--
O, I wush that I were there!
There's nae hame like our ain hame
To be met wi' onywhere;
And O that I were back again,
To our farm and fields sae green;
And heard the tongues o' my ain folk,
And were what I hae been!

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