When hinnied hopes around our hearts Like simmer blossoms sprang ! O, mind ye, luve, how aft we left To wander by the green burnside, The simmer leaves hung ower our heads, And in the gloamin o' the wood The throssil whusslit in the wood, And we with Nature's heart in tune, Concerted harmonies; And on the knowe abune the burn, For hours thegither sat In the silentness o' joy, till baith Ay, ay, dear Jeanie Morrison, Tears trinkled doun your cheek Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane That was a time, a blessed time, When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gushed all feelings forth, Unsyllabled,-unsung! I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, Gin I hae been to thee As closely twined wi' earliest thochts, O, tell me gin their music fills Thine ear as it does mine! O, say gin e'er your heart grows grit I've wandered east, I've wandered west, I've borne a weary lot; But in my wanderings, far or near, Ye never were forgot. The fount that first burst frae this heart Still travels on its way; And channels deeper as it rins, O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Did I but ken your heart still dreamed ROBERT GILFILLAN. 1798-1850. ROBERT GILFILLAN was born in Dunfermline, in Fifeshire. His parents were in a humble rank of life, his father being a small manufacturer. His mother was a woman of strong sense and high intellectual endowments. At the age of thirteen, he was bound as an apprentice in Leith to the trade of a cooper, at which he served the usual term of seven years. On the expiry of that period, he relinquished his trade, which it seems he never liked, and was for three years in a grocery store in Dunfermline. He subsequently went to Edinburgh, where he procured employment in mercantile life, and had opportunities of pursuing his studies under favorable circumstances. He seems to have resided in Edinburgh till his death, and the years spent there he ever characterized as the happiest of his existence. He attempted song writing when a mere boy, before he had removed from his native town, and while his spirits were yet fresh and buoyant. Gilfillan's biographer says of him: "He fills a place in Scottish poetry altogether distinct and different from any of the acknowledged masters of Scottish song. He is certainly not so universal as Burns, nor so broad and graphic a delineator of Scottish manners as Ramsay or Hogg, nor is he so keenly alive to the beauties of external nature as Robert Tannahill; but in his own peculiar walk, that of home and the domestic affections, he has shown a command of happy thought and imagery, in which it may be truly said, that he has not been excelled as a poet of nature by any of his predecessors, with the exception only of Burns himself." 0! THE happy days o' youth are fast gaun by, And age is coming on, wi' its bleak winter sky; An' whaur shall we shelter frae its storm when they blaw, When the gladsome days o' youth are flown awa'? They said that wisdom came wi' manhood's riper years, |