Farewell to Scotland
To dreary heather, and to streams so clear,—
To rocks, and stones! Upon the dreary way
No sun is shining, as on sprightly May.
Again it changes to the winding Earn,—
ʼTis shallow water, but it has no fern;
But it is precious for its shining drops;
And sometimes from the river a fish pops.
Again it changes to a steep, steep hill,
And it is cold, do anything you will.
In short, such changes Scotland does now take,
That I canʼt tell them, and 1
an end I make