Decorated headstone in Greyfriars churchyard.
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Read and listen to selected poems
Epitaph for a Dead Self
| Lie doun, lie doun, and wauk nae mair My first, my fondest bairn: Your life has brocht me monie a care But noo I'm yont a' carin. |
Bitter it was to lat ye gang Wha were sae young and dear; But I had wrocht us baith a wrang To hain ye back in fear. |
| Your halflin strength had been foredüne Wi' fraucht for manhood's frame: But sturdier sons, ye winna ken, Will warsle in your name. |
Nae loss can mak us mair forfairn Nor the love we brank to bide: Lie doun, lie doun, my earliest bairn; It's weel that you are dead. |
Please note there is no audio for this poem. | |
Glossary
| doun - down; | wauk - wake; | mair - more; | brocht - brought; | monie - many; |
| yont - past; | gang - go; | wrocht - done; | baith - both; | wrang - wrong; |
| hain - hold; | halflin - youthful; | foredüne - exhausted; | fraucht - weight; | ken - know; |
| warsle - wrestle; | forfairn - forlorn; | nor - than; | brank - bottle up; | bide - live. |
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