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Poem by William Nicholson The Banks of Fleet I sing the bonny banks o Fleet, Where Nature spreads her various treasure; Frae fruits and flowers of every hue, To berries blae, and craps o heather. Thy peebled shores and sea-girt isles, Thy far-famed woods and views sae mony; Thy hills and towers where simmer smiles, Thy strappin lads, and lasses bonny. Thy winding banks and flowery dells, With bloomin fields around in order; Where commerce spreads her flowin sails, Auld Card’ness towers o’erlook thy border. Upon thy banks a borough stands, Sae feat and healthy, few’s completer; If search through Scotia’s southern strands, Nane’s shieled sae biel, nor shaws aught sweeter. Carstramon waves his leafy locks, Amidst the meads where flowers are springing; And shields wi woods his furrowed rocks, Where lightsome birds are blythly singing. The Ruscoe ruins, nodding gray, Where Gordons gay ance blythely ranted; And wild woods spreading o’er the brae, By nature’s ruleless hand been planted. At distance Cairnsmuir rears his form, The hoary snaw his haffets wrappin; His dark brows brave the wintry storm — A blue-mist bonnet co’ers his tappin. Fain would I sing each noble name, Where kindness blends wi wealth her traces; But deeds surpass the poet’s pen, As native smiles do borrowed graces. Farewell, ye bonny banks o’ Fleet, Where nature spreads out a her treasure; Frae fruits and flowers o every hue, To berries blae, and craps o’ heather. William Nicholson William Nicholson's other poems: 1196 Views |
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