12
Jeanie Miller ance sae cheerie,
Alice say happy, good and fair,
Left by Will, next morning, drearie,
Taks the road o’ black despair!
Cauld the blast—the day was sleeting;
Pouch and purse without a plack!
In ilk hand a bairnie greeting,
And the third tied on her back.
Wan her face, and lean and haggard,
Ance sad sonsy—ance sae sweet;
What a change! unhoused and beggared,
Starving, without claes or meat!
Far frae ilk kent spot she wandered.
Skulking like a guilty thief;
Here and there uncertain dandered,
Stupified wi’ shame and grief:
But soon shame for bygane errors
Fled owre fast for e’e to trace,
When grim death wi’ a’ his terrors
Cam’ owre ilk sweet bairnie’s face.
Spent wi’ toil, and cauld and hunger,
Baith down drapt, and down Jean sat;
Daized and doited now nae langer,
Thought—and felt—and bursting grat.
Gloamin’ fast wi’ mirky shadow
Crap owre distant hill and plain;
Darkened wood, and glen, and meadow.
Adding fearfu’ thoughts to pain.
Round and round, in wild distraction
Jeanie turned her tearfu’ e’e;
Round and round for some protection—
Face nor house she couldna see!
