HAME!

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXVII, Issue 40, 17 October 1913, Page 8

HAME!

TAE THE EXILES FAR AWA'. It’s until mu in mild Scotland, an’ 1 ken I. iieodua speir Dae yo mind jist lioo it lookit in the hack end o’ the year, Twix’ the way gann o’ the swalla, an the first wee shorn - o’ snaw, In the gowden days o’ glory, httin in atween the twa? When the shea rinks newly teenished, an’ the world seems fu’ o’ stooks Eli! the liert jist thrills on lookin , an’ its hotter than it looks — For ahlow the glint an’ glimmer, there are stores o’ heavenly brand, Showin’ clear the Maker’s stampin , provin’ tae His laivish hand. Dae yo mind yon roadside plantin . where His artist hand had hoen,

Leavin’ a’ the shades o’ amber ’mong the hr trey’s sombre green i Dae. ye mind the rowan berries hoo they clustered roun’ their stems, An’ the liaws that lay in thoosands like a shoor o’ ruby gems? Ither countries may be grander, they’ll hae charms I wadmi doot, But there aye seems something lackin in time lands ye read a boot — Mair than want o’ Scottish heather, or the thistle’s doony caimb, Is that nameless something dingin’ tae the hallowed place ca’d hame?

Ay! T ken ye’ll aft hae kookit owro the dyke tae see the . floors In the sued woo cottage gairden whore the men folk toil for ’oors; Shut yer o’cu jist for a moon it, tao keep not the foreign glare, An’ ye’ll see it a’ in speerit, an’ ye’ll want tao linger there. Hoo ye’ll revel in tiro beauty—rnayhe sittin’ on the dyke, 'fakin’ tent o’ ilka dally, for ye never saw the like; Xaowhere else ye’ve seen sie creepers, or geranums half sao tine, An’ they’re floorin’ on as honnie as yo saw thorn floor hang syne. An’ the aipples in yon orchard, owre the hedge sae thick an’ high, Are as rosy an’ as juicy as they were in days gape hy, A’ things hronzo an’ hroon an’ yella, wi’ a warm an’ hamely light, An’ yo scarce can keep frao greetin’ wi’ sheer gledness at the sight. Look again, an’ keep on lookin’, let it weet ho ’graven in— This is Scotland in the autumn, an’ it passes awfn’ sune!— See at yonder term a’ready, leadin’ in has jist, begun, An’ praise' God, there’s much tae : , I 0,l 1W M . 1 ) garner, o on wo say the season s done. Is the piotor gey fainileer? Wool I ken ye’ve seen it whiles, Since yon day ye left the hanieland owro tin 1 big sea’s watery miles. Hut ye mauira get dooiihoarted, non ye’re there' and nae ihair here, Mem’ry’s sweet, and God’s ahiine ye, keepin’ watch, sue' dinna fear! Some day, maybe, in His plannin’, He may bring yo hack tao hide ’Mid the same auld dear surroundin’s in tlu> well-kept countryside. Should this he, or should it never, keep aye tapmaist in yer mind— There’s a, better land afore ye, that ye canna leave lieliiiid. ’Vont a’ hamelands, liooe’er precious, ’yont the last bright Autumn glow, Lies the dwellin' o’ yer Faither, far surpassin’ aught below, fluid things here are Heaven’s reflectin’, ne’er tae that yer veesion dim, An’ ye’ll no’ he disappointed, they’ll but guide yo ha mo tao Him. 0! It’s grand tao kon a Faitlier wi’ sic foolin’ for oor need, An’ wi’ infinite resources tao provide oor daily breed; There’s nae limit tae His gi’ein’, when ye talc a hairnies’ place, For yo ne’er can measure mercy, an’ yo canna fathom grace, —Rohina A. Gray, Edmonstone.