The Comin’ o’ the Spring
There’s no a muir in my ain land but’s fu’ o’ sang the day, Wi’ the whaup, and the gowden plover, and the lintie upon the brae. The birk in the glen is springin’, the rowan-tree in the shaw, And every burn is rinnin’ wild wi’ the meltin’ o’ the snaw. The wee white cluds in the blue lift are hurryin’ light and free, Their shadows fleein’ on the hills, where I, too, fain wad be; The wind frae the west is blawin’, and wi’ it seems to bear The scent o’ the thyme and gowan thro’ a’ the caller air. The herd doon the hillside’s linkin’. O licht his heart may be Whose step is on the heather, his glance ower muir and lea! On the Moss are the wild ducks gatherin’, whar the pules like diamonds lie, And far up soar the wild geese, wi’ weird, unyirdly cry. In mony a neuk the primrose lies hid frae stranger een, An’ the broom on the knowes is wavin’ wi’ its cludin o’ gowd and green; Ower the first green sprigs o’ heather, the muir-fowl faulds his wing, And there’s nought but joy in my ain land at the comin’ o’ the Spring!
'Haud fast by the past' was Lady John Scott's motto, which she followed through out her long life as a Borders landowner, using her position to protect architectural and archaeological remains, preserve ancient traditions and defend the Scots tongue. She is remembered as a songwriter and collector of folk songs and tales, and is most famous for rewriting the words to 'Annie Laurie', and composing for it a most memorable tune.Read more about this poet