The Banks of the Esk.
[Alex. Smart.—Here first printed.]
In life's sunny morning, by Esk's winding stream,
My days glided by like a beautiful dream,
And free as a bird I would carelessly rove,
Indulging fond visions of beauty and love.
Then nature was clad in her richest of green,
And youth's bounding pulse lent a charm to the scene,
While each living thing in its joy was a part
Of the gladness that found a sweet home in my heart.
By Esk's winding stream, in the pride of the year,
The banks are as green and the waters as clear,
But nature's soft verdure can never again
Impart the same feelings that gladdened me then.
Sweet home of my childhood! though far from my view,
In fancy's fond dreams I am ever with you;
And Oh! your remembrance can only depart
With the last throb of feeling that gladdens my heart.