Poem by Stuart Lewis

Lanark Mills

ADIEU! romantic banks of Clyde,
  Where oft I ’ve spent the joyful day;
Now, weary wandering on thy side,
  I pour the plaintive, joyless lay.
To other lands I ’m doomed to rove,
  The thought with grief my bosom fills;
Why am I forced to leave my love,
  And wander far from Lanark Mills?

Can I forget the ecstatic hours,
  When (’scaped the village evening din)
I met my lass midst Braxfield bowers,
  Or near the falls of Corhouse Linn!
While close I clasped her to my breast,
  (The idea still with rapture thrills!)
I thought myself completely blest
  By all the lads of Lanark Mills.

Deceitful, dear, delusive dream,
  Thou ’rt fled,—alas! I know not where,
And vanished is each blissful gleam,
  And left behind a load of care.
Adieu! dear winding banks of Clyde,
  A long farewell, ye rising hills;
No more I ’ll wander on your side,
  Though still my heart ’s at Lanark Mills.

While Tintock stands the pride of hills,
  While Clyde’s dark stream rolls to the sea,
So long, my dear-loved Lanark Mills,
  May Heaven’s best blessings smile on thee.
A last adieu! my Mary dear,
  The briny tear my eye distils;
While reason’s powers continue clear,
  I ’ll think of thee and Lanark Mills.

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