Robert Burns: from My Father Was a Farmer

(Tune: The Weaver and His Shuttle, O)

[. . .]

Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro’ life I’m doomed to wander, O
Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slumber, O
No view nor care, but shun whate’er might breed me pain or sorrow, O
I live today, as well’s I may, regardless of tomorrow, O.

But cheerful still, I am as well, as a monarch in a palace, O
Tho’ fortune’s frown still hunts me down, with all her wonted malice, O
I make indeed, my daily bread, but ne’er can make it farther, O
But as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her, O.

Crow

(Image: Bruce Van Valen)

today as others
i rise up again to cry
this one piercing note

 

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I had trouble pulling this together, but reading Sylvia’s post this morning inspired me to find the words I was searching for. Thanks, Sylvia! By the way, if anyone wants a real treat, head over to Sylvia’s place at spanishwoods. The photos are wonderful (she often uses her son Wolf’s photos, and they both have an unerring eye for line and color) and the words she adds are always beautiful, intelligent, and very well done.