ROBERT BURNS'S LAST POEM.

Shannon News, 17 June 1924, Page 1

ROBERT BURNS'S LAST POEM.

DISCOVERED IN-'NEW -ZEADAXDi '(From “Otago Daily Times.”) When on a' visit recently to New Zealand, Miv William Smith, Westerliouse, Carluke, secured (the Pebble - slii re “Advertiser” says) ; fi'om an old Scotsman living near .-Dunedin, a copy oL' a poem written by Robert Burns very shortly before his death; and addressed to Miss Jessie Lewars. One does not readily accept as authentic anything fresh, at this date purporting to come from Burn’s pen.. This poem, however, -written ah it -was in> such pathetic circumstances, gives evidence of oeing genuine, let alone, the fact . at it bears his signature.” The verses -will be admitted to be of great, merit, almost every line speaking of the tragedy of his last days. They have an added interest for all lovers of the poet from the fact that 'it is almost a certainty, that they were the last verses he composed, -and that only live days' before his death. They are worthy of Burns at .his best, and not unfit to be classed along Avith “The Cottar’s Saturday Night.” TO MESS JESSIE LEWARS. The sun lies clasped in amber cloud, Half hidden in the sea. And o’er the sands the flowing tide Gomes racing merrilie. The .hawthorn hedge is white with bloom, The Avind is soft and loav, And sad and still you w’atch by me, Your hand clasped in my own. Oh, let the curtains bide, Jessie, And lift my head a wee, And the bonny setting sun Glint in on you and me The world seems fair and bright, Jessie, ‘Near loving hearts like you, But poortith’s .blast sifts simmer love, And makes real friendships few.

1-loav often in the dreary night, 1 I clasp my burning hands Upon thes e throbbing sleepless lids. O l er eyes like glOAving brands. And wonder in my weary brain, If haply Avlien lam dead < ’ My old bqon friends for -love of me : Will give my baii'nies bread.

Oh, did the poor not help the poor, Each in their simple way. With humble gift and kindly love, God pity them , I say. . For many a man Avho clasped my; /'■-haiid /'•'/‘I With friendship o’er the boAvl, When the wine halo passed away Proved but a niggard soul. *

Oh, blessed hope ’midst our distress, There is a promise made. That in the day .the rough wind blows. The east wind shall be stayed. A few short years and those I love, Will come again to me, To that bright land without a sun, Tliati land without a sea.

Oh, wilt thou gang o’ nights, Jessie, To my forsaken hearth, And be as thou hast been to me, The truest friend on earth. So sweetly in your linnet voice, You’ll sing my weans to rest. While Jeannie leans licr weary head Upon thy loving breast. ,

Oh, what is fame ?.its-wealth of bays Cools not the fevered brow, .Will’ti tell his name in future .days "Who whistled at the plough, And wrote a simple song or tw'O, For happier hearts to sing Among the shining sheaves of corn. Or round the 'household!ring?

• Yet Avould I praise the bubble fame, If but my artless lays Brought thy true Avortli and lovingness For future,time to praise True friend, I bless the poet skill, Which avoji a friend like thee, 'Whose loa’C tAvixt hopes of home and heaven . Is Avitli me constantly. Robert Burns. ' Miss I.cwnrx to whom the poem wa* addressed, was the sister of John LeAvars, one of the bard’s follow officers in the Excise, a young man of whom he spoke in high praise. Miss Lewars Avas a neighbour in Dumfries, and a kind and helpful friend to Mrs. Burns aiid her children and helped to nurse the poet in Ids. last illness.

Mr. A. .Stewart, of Lanark, Avho contribute to the "Peebleshire Advertiser” notes on this poem, discusses the question, How such a meritorious piece has not been published in any of the numerous collections of Burns’s Avorks? We learn (he says) that Jessie Lewars married in Dumfries, becoming- a Mrs. Thomson, and continued to reside there even ! after she became a Avidow, but it would appear that although she gave the other verses he had Avritten to her to the publishers she had never gives up this, the most impo'rttmt of them all. j One can .only conjecture as to her reason. .It is possible and not unlikely tliat, she considered this last tribute from her departed friend too personal, and sacred a message to give to the world, and so ' kept it as one of her treasured memorials. Or perchance her finer feelings revolted against publishing the tender expressions used regarding those ho was leaving. Whatever may have been,her reason for holding the poem as confidental she certainly kept

her treasure to the end. It would bo interesting to know how the poem was carried to New Zealand. Here again We can only, in the meantime at least, surmise that after Mrs. Thomson’s death tlie relatives into whose hands it fell either took it abroad or sent it to some other friend, who carefully preserved it, and so it passi-d from one to another until at last it has returned to Scotland to arouse fresh interest in her National Bard.