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Poem by Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne

The Auld House

O, THE AULD house, the auld house!
  What though the rooms were wee?
O, kind hearts were dwelling there,
  And bairnies fu o glee!
The wild-rose and the jessamine	
  Still hang upon the wa;
How mony cherished memories
  Do they, sweet flowers, reca!

O, the auld laird, the auld laird!
  Sae canty, kind, and crouse;
How mony did he welcome to
  His ain wee dear auld house!
And the leddy too, sae genty,
  There sheltered Scotlands heir,
And clipt a lock wi her ain hand
  Frae his lang yellow hair.

The mavis still doth sweetly sing,
  The bluebells sweetly blaw,
The bonnie Earn s clear winding still,
  But the auld house is awa.
The auld house, the auld house,
  Deserted though ye be,
There neer can be a new house
  Will seem sae fair to me.

Still flourishing the auld pear-tree
  The bairnies liked to see,
And O, how often did they speir
  When ripe they a wad be!
The voices sweet, the wee bit feet
  Aye rinnin here and there,
The merry shout,O, whiles we greet
  To think we ll hear nae mair.

For they are a wide, scattered now,
  Some to the Indies gane,
And ane, alas! to her lang hame;
  Not here we ll meet again.
The kirkyaird, the kirkyaird,
  Wi flowers o every hue,
Sheltered by the hollys shade,
  An the dark sombre yew.

The setting sun, the setting sun,
  How glorious it gaed down;
The cloudy splendor raised our hearts
  To cloudless skies aboon!
The auld dial, the auld dial,
  It tauld how time did pass;
The wintry winds hae dung it down,
  Now hid mang weeds and grass.

Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne

Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne's other poems:
  1. Fell He on the Field of Fame
  2. Rest Is Not Here
  3. The Laird o' Cockpen
  4. The Pentland Hills
  5. He's Owre the Hills that I Lo'e Weel

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