Explore "Songs of Angus: GLORY" by Violet Jacob on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I canna' see ye, lad, I canna' see ye, / For a' yon glory that's aboot yer heid, / Yon licht that haps ye, an' the hosts that's wi' ye, / Aye, but ye live, an' it's mysel' that's deid!
They gae'd frae mill and mart; frae wind-blawn places, / And grey toon-closes; i' the empty street / Nae mair the bairns ken their steps, their faces, / Nor stand to listen to the trampin' feet.
Beside the brae, and soughin' through the rashes, / Yer voice comes back to me at ilka turn, / Amang the whins, an' whaur the water washes / The arn-tree[5] wi' its feet amangst the burn.
Whiles ye come back to me when day is fleein', / And a' the road oot-by is dim wi' nicht, / But weary een like mine is no for seein', / An', gin they saw, they wad be blind wi' licht.
Daith canna' kill. The mools o' France lie o'er ye, / An' yet ye live, O sodger o' the Lord! / For Him that focht wi' daith an' dule afore ye, / He gie'd the life -- 'twas Him that gie'd the sword.
But gin ye see my face or gin ye hear me, / I daurna' ask, I maunna' seek to ken, / Though I should dee, wi' sic a glory near me, / By nicht or day, come ben, my bairn, come ben!