A Border Burn
Where Autumn runnels fret and foam
Past banks of amber fern,
Since track was none I chanced to roam
Along a Border burn.
The rain was gone, the winds were furled,
No cloud was in the sky,
So that there seemed in all the world
Only the stream and I.
At length upon a grey-green stone
I sate me down to dream,
Till, with its flow familiar grown,
I thus addressed the stream:
``Dear Border Burn, that had your birth
Where hills stand bright and high,
Whose lowlier parent is the earth,
Whose loftier the sky;
``Half-heavenly therefore in your source,
Withal to man akin,
Betraying by your wayward course
Your mingled origin;
``Why, in a scene so fair as this,
Not linger while you may,
And lengthen out unchided bliss
In childlike holiday?
``Encircled here by native hills,
And fringed by wilding flowers,
With all your playmate sister rills
To wile away the hours,
``Past glowing heather, silvery sedge,
You hurry on, and on,
Rush at the rock, then leap the ledge,
All eager to be gone.
``For you the mavis thrills the brake,
For you the laverocks soar,
And even snow and sleet but make
You dance and sing the more.
``The water-ouzels dip and shoot
Amid your flashing spray,
Where flapping heron, skimming coot,
Forage, and pair, and play.
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poem by Alfred Austin
Added by Poetry Lover
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