Joanna Baillie Poems

NAY , sister, what hast thou to boast
Of joy? a poor reciter thou,
Whose happiest thought is but the ghost
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WHOSE imp art thou, with dimpled cheek,
And curly pate and merry eye,
And arm and shoulders round and sleek,
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MOUNT , child of Morning, mount and sing,
And gaily beat thy fluttering wing,
And sound thy shrill alarms:
Bath'd in the fountains of the dew
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SWEET bud of promise, fresh and fair,
Just moving in the morning air,
The morn of life but just begun,
The sands of time just set to run!
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SPIRIT of strength! to whom in wrath 'tis given,
To mar the earth and shake its vasty dome,
Behold the sombre robes whose gathering folds,
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UNFELT , unseen, time steals away,
So softly with our years,
The dewy gem of op'ning day
Not swifter disappears.
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LIKE gleam of sunshine on the mountain's side,
Fair, bright and beautiful, while all beside,
Slope, cliff and pinnacle in shadow lie
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TOIL-WORN upon their wavy sea,
With empty nets and wasted store,
The fishermen of Galilee
Are steering cheerless to the shore.
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WILLIE was a wanton wag,
The blithest lad that e'er I saw;
Of field and floor he was the brag,
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FY , let us a' to the wedding,
For they will be lilting there;
For Jock's to be married to Maggy,
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