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Poem by Robert Burns


The Lazy Mist


THE lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill,
Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill;
How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear,
As autumn to winter resigns the pale year!
The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown,
And all the gay foppery of summer is flown:
Apart let me wander, apart let me muse,
How quick time is flying, how keen fate pursues;
How long I have lived, but how much lived in vain;
How little of lifes scanty span may remain:
What aspects old Time, in his progress, has worn;
What ties cruel fate in my bosom has torn.
How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gaind!
And downward, how weakend, how darkend, how paind!
This lifes not worth having with all it can give;
For something beyond it poor man sure must live.



                      Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Theres News, Lasses
  2. Scroggam
  3. The Toast
  4. Where are the Joys
  5. My Wifes a Winsome Wee Thing


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