10
life's reverses.
Bent silent an' sad, gi'en the embers a steer,
Aye stiflin' the deep sigh, an' dichtin' the tear.
Is't the gusty wind flings back the door wi' a daud?
Na, it's Tam, wi' a burden o' sticks frae the wood.
Puir wee callen, ye shake frae the head to the feet,
Your thin claes repel na the blast an' the sleet,
An' your een's a' begratten, sae chillin' the storm—
Fling on some boughs, Jessie, your brither to warm.
Laith the frost-laden sprays seem to kindle ava,
Lang an' dreich noucht was heard but the fizzin' o SNaw;
At last, wi' a crackin', up louped the glad lowe,
Till gleams played like sunlicht on ilka wan brow.
"I'nt that fine!" said wee Tam, as he crouched to the heat,
"How nice it would ready a morsel o' meat!"
The dark een o' Jess were raised thouchtfu' an' sad
To the face o' her mither, an' that o' the lad,
When she risin' exclaimed, wi' attempt at a smile,
"Weel, Tam, we'll hae something to eat in a while.
I'll awa' to the leddy wha lives at the ha',
Axn' be hame again, mither, before the nicht fa'.
She was pleased wi' the wark I did for her, ye ken,
But had na' sma'siller to pay me a' then;
A balance remains, just a trifle, 'tis true,
But surely 'tis needed, an' honestly due;
She'll aiblins think seekin' it noo is na rieht,
But she kens na the mis'ry that craves it this nicht."
Wi' a shudder the mither gazed out at the storm,
At her puir hungry bairns, at her dauchter's slight form:
Aye stiflin' the deep sigh, an' dichtin' the tear.
Is't the gusty wind flings back the door wi' a daud?
Na, it's Tam, wi' a burden o' sticks frae the wood.
Puir wee callen, ye shake frae the head to the feet,
Your thin claes repel na the blast an' the sleet,
An' your een's a' begratten, sae chillin' the storm—
Fling on some boughs, Jessie, your brither to warm.
Laith the frost-laden sprays seem to kindle ava,
Lang an' dreich noucht was heard but the fizzin' o SNaw;
At last, wi' a crackin', up louped the glad lowe,
Till gleams played like sunlicht on ilka wan brow.
"I'nt that fine!" said wee Tam, as he crouched to the heat,
"How nice it would ready a morsel o' meat!"
The dark een o' Jess were raised thouchtfu' an' sad
To the face o' her mither, an' that o' the lad,
When she risin' exclaimed, wi' attempt at a smile,
"Weel, Tam, we'll hae something to eat in a while.
I'll awa' to the leddy wha lives at the ha',
Axn' be hame again, mither, before the nicht fa'.
She was pleased wi' the wark I did for her, ye ken,
But had na' sma'siller to pay me a' then;
A balance remains, just a trifle, 'tis true,
But surely 'tis needed, an' honestly due;
She'll aiblins think seekin' it noo is na rieht,
But she kens na the mis'ry that craves it this nicht."
Wi' a shudder the mither gazed out at the storm,
At her puir hungry bairns, at her dauchter's slight form:
