THOMAS HOOD
Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity,
Into her rest. Cross her hands humbly As if praying dumbly,
Owning her weakness, Her evil behaviour,
And leaving, with meekness, Her sins to her Saviour !
��WILLIAM THOM The Blind Bo/ s Franks
\l( EN grew sae cauld, maids sae unkind,
- Love kentna whaur to stay :
Wi' fient an arrow, bow, or string Wi' droopin' heart an' drizzled wing, He faught his lonely way.
' Is there nae mair in Garioch fair
Ae spotless hame for me ? Hae politics an* corn an* kye Ilk bosom stappit ? Fie, O fie f
I'll swithe me o'er the sea.'
He launch'd a leaf o' jessamine,
On whilk he daur'd to swim, An' pillow'd his head on a wee rosebud, Syne laithfu', lanely, Love 'gan scud
Down Ury's waefu* stream.
6jj. kentna] knew not. wi' fient an arrow] i. q. with deuce an
arrow. swithe] hie quickly. laithfu'] regretful.
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