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Poem by Robert Burns


The Gloomy Night


THE gloomy night is gathering fast,
Loud roars the wild inconstant blast,
Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
I see it driving oer the plain;
The hunter now has left the moor,
The scatterd coveys meet secure,
While here I wander, prest with care,
Along the lonely banks of Ayr.

  The Autumn mourns her ripening corn
By early Winters ravage torn;
Across her placid azure sky,
She sees the scowling tempest fly:
Chill runs my blood to hear it rave,
I think upon the stormy wave,
Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr.

  Tis not the surging billows roar,
Tis not that fatal, deadly shore;
Tho death in evry shape appear,
The wretched have no more to fear:
But round my heart the ties are bound,
That heart transpiercd with many a wound:
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear,
To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr.

  Farewell, old Coilas hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales;
The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
Pursuing past unhappy loves!
Farewell, my friends!  Farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those;
The bursting tears my heart declare,
Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr!



Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Epitaph on Wee Johnny
  2. The Cairds Second Song
  3. The Sailors Song
  4. Ye Sons of Old Killie
  5. Had I The Wyte


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