Читать книгу Bramble Brae - Bridges Robert - Страница 1

You called the old farm Bramble Brae,

And loved it till your hair was gray

And footsteps faltered while you trod

The sloping upland bright with sod.

It blossomed in your quiet life

With gowans from the Neuk of Fife;

And while you walked the waving wheat

You dreamed of heather and the peat.

You’ve gane awa! My spirit yearns

To hear you read the songs of Burns;

The melody I’ve faintly caught

Is just the lesson that you taught.

If any hear your gentle voice

In verse of mine, then I’ll rejoice

And sing along my stumbling way,

“He’s home again in Bramble Brae!”