Between the pasture bars the wondering cattle
Stared wistfully, and from their mellow bells
Shook out a welcoming whose dreamy rattle
Fell swooningly away in faint farewells.
And though at last the gloom of night fell o'er them,
And folded all the landscape from their eyes,
They only know the dusky path before them
Was leading safely on to Paradise.
THE LITTLE TINY KICKSHAW.
"--_And any little tiny kickshaws_."--Shakespeare.
O the little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me,
'Tis sweeter than the sugar-plum that reepens on the tree,
Wi' denty flavorin's o' spice an' musky rosemarie,
The little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me.
'Tis luscious wi' the stalen tang o' fruits frae ower the sea,
An' e'en its fragrance gars we laugh wi' langin' lip an' ee,
Till a' its frazen sheen o' white maun melten hinnie be--
Sae weel I luve the kickshaw that Mither sent tae me.
O I luve the tiny kickshaw, an' I smack my lips wi' glee,
Aye mickle do I luve the taste o' sic a luxourie,
But maist I luve the luvein' han's that could the giftie gie
O' the little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me.
HIS MOTHER.
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