The trout within yon wimpling burn

Now spring has clad the grove in green,
And strew'd the lea wi' flowers;
The furrow'd, waving corn is seen
Rejoice in fostering showers;
While ilka thing in nature join
Their sorrows to forego,
O, why thus all alone are mine
The weary steps o' woe!
2.
The trout within yon wimpling burn
Glides swift, a silver dart,
And, safe beneath the shady thorn,
Defies the angler's art:
My life was ance that careless stream,
That wanton trout was I,
But Love wi' unrelenting beam
Has scorch'd my fountains dry.
3.
The little floweret's peaceful lot,
In yonder cliff that grows,
Which save the linnet's flight, I wot,
Nae ruder visit knows,
Was mine, till Love has o'er me past,
And blighted a' my bloom;
And now beneath the withering blast
My youth and joy consume.
4.
The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs,
And climbs the early sky,
Winnowing blythe his dewy wings
In Morning's rosy eye:
As little reck't I Sorrow's power,
Until the flowery snare
O' witching Love in luckless hour
Made me the thrall o' care!
5.
O, had my fate been Greenland snows
Or Afric's burning zone,
Wi' Man and Nature leagu'd my foes,
So Peggy ne'er I'd known!
The wretch, whose doom is ' hope nae mair,'
What tongue his woes can tell,
Within whose bosom, save Despair,
Nae kinder spirits dwell!

Argh, the humanity. Whatever happened to "tis better to have loved and
lost than never have loved at all"?

Besides, I first read the second stanza as:
"My life was ance that careless stream,
That wanton trout was I,
But Love wi' unrelenting BREAM
Has scorch'd my fountains dry."

:-)

--riverman

George Bush is visiting an Edinburgh hospital. He enters a ward full of
patients with no obvious sign of injury and greets one.
The patient replies"
"Fair fa your honest sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding race,
Aboon them o' you take your place,
Painch, tripe or thairm,
As langs my airm."

Bush is confused, so he just grins and moves on to the next patient.
The patient responds:
" Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it,
But we hae meat and we can eat,
So let the Lord be thankit."

Even more confused, and his grin now rictus-like, Bush moves on to the
next patient, who immediately begins to chant:
"We sleekit, cowerin, timorous beastie,
Thou needna start awa sae hastie,
Wi bickerin brattle."

Now seriously troubled, Bush turns to the accompanying doctor and asks
"What kind of facility is this? A mental ward"
"No", replies the doctor.




Get ready for this..........






It will be worth waiting for...............




I hope.........





Here it comes..........







"This is the serious Burns unit."

On 1/26/06 1:35 AM, in article
, "riverman"
wrote:

Argh, the humanity. Whatever happened to "tis better to have loved and
lost than never have loved at all"?

I don't think anything happened to it, but that was Tennyson, and it's not
his birthday :-)

Bill