By James Archibald.
Read at the celebration of the 98th Tannahill Anniversary, Paisley, 3rd June, 1872.
I love Gleniffer's classic braes,
The yellow broom and heather-bell,
Where Phoebus leaves his ling'ring rays
Ere he departs, and bids farewell.
I love the gurgling mountain stream,
The rocky glen and rowan tree,
Where grassy banks with wild-flowers teem,
And woodland songsters whirring flee.
I love the auld grey granite fold,
Where shelter'd Robin stood alone,
Whilst lightnings flashed and thunder roll'd,
That made the stately oak to groan.
I love the lonely mossy rose,
That blinks obscurely neath the thorn,—
In native beauty still it grows,
Though isolated and forlorn.
I love to see “the midges dance,”
In merry glee “aboon the burn;”
On lightsome airy wings they prance,
And never know what 'tis to mourn.
I love to wander forth unseen,
Beside sweet flowery Craigielee,
Where Robin met at dewy e'en
Wi' Mary, near the trysting tree.
I love the homely, lowly cot,
Which sculptur'd art may laugh to scorn ;
For hallow'd is the humble spot
Where Nature's sweetest bard was born.
O gentle, modest Tannahill,
Thy name's engraven on my heart ;
Though thou art gone, I love thee still,
With love, too, that shall ne'er depart.
James Archibald, weaver and poet, Queen Street, was born there in 1817.-Ed.>