Poem by David Vedder

Jeanie's Welcome Hame

Let wrapt musicians strike the lyre,
  While plaudits shake the vaulted fane;
Let warriors rush through flood and fire,
  A never-dying name to gain;
Let bards, on fancy's fervid wing,
  Pursue some high or holy theme:
Be 't mine, in simple strains, to sing
  My darling Jeanie 's welcome hame!

Sweet is the morn of flowery May,
  When incense breathes from heath and wold--
When laverocks hymn the matin lay,
  And mountain peaks are bathed in gold--
And swallows, frae some foreign strand,
  Are wheeling o'er the winding stream;
But sweeter to extend my hand,
  And bid my Jeanie welcome hame!

Poor collie, our auld-farrant dog,
  Will bark wi' joy whene'er she comes;
And baudrons, on the ingle rug,
  Will blithely churm at "auld gray-thrums."
The mavis, frae our apple-tree,
  Shall warble forth a joyous strain;
The blackbird's mellow minstrelsy
  Shall welcome Jeanie hame again!

Like dew-drops on a fading rose,
  Maternal tears shall start for thee,
And low-breathed blessings rise like those
  Which soothed thy slumb'ring infancy.
Come to my arms, my timid dove!
  I 'll kiss thy beauteous brow once more;
The fountain of thy father's love
  Is welling all its banks out o'er!

1. The Temple of Nature
2. The First of May

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