Though myriads go with him who goes,
Alone he goes where no wind blows,
Unto the land which no one knows.
For all must go where no wind blows,
And none can go for him who goes;
None, none return whence no one knows.
Yet why should he who shrieking goes
With millions, from a world of woes,
Reunion seek with it or those?
Alone with God, where no wind blows,
And Death, his shadow—doom'd, he goes.
That God is there the shadow shows.
O shoreless Deep, where no wind blows!
And thou, O Land which no one knows!
That God is All, His shadow shows.
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM
1784-1843
589. The Sun rises bright in France
The sun rises bright in France,
And fair sets he;
But he has tint the blythe blink he had
In my ain countree.
O, it's nae my ain ruin
That saddens aye my e'e,
But the dear Marie I left behin'
Wi' sweet bairnies three.
589. tint] lost.
