Page:Poems Cook.djvu/63

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THE IDIOT-BORN.
I ken there's the miller, wi' plenty o' siller,
Would fain win a glance from her beautiful 'ee;
But my ain bonnie Mary, the star o' Glengary,
Keeps a' her sweet smiles and saft kisses for me.

'Tis lang sin' we first trod the Highlands togither,
Twa frolicsome bairns, gaily starting the deer;
When I ca'd her my life! my ain bonnie wee wife,
And ne'er knew sic joy as when Mary was near.
And still she's the blossom I wear in my bosom,
A blossom I'll cherish and wear till I dee;
For my ain bonnie Mary, the star o' Glengary,
She's health, and she's wealth, and she's a' good to me!


THE IDIOT-BORN.
"Out, thou silly moon-struck elf;
Back, poor fool, and hide thyself!"
This is what the wise ones say,
Should the Idiot cross their way:
But if we would closely mark,
We should see him not all dark;
We should find we must not scorn
The teaching of the Idiot-born.

He will screen the newt and frog;
He will cheer the famish'd dog;
He will seek to share his bread
With the orphan, parish-fed:

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