rair for his sake.

mourn, m'ring craiks at close o' day,

'mang fields o' flow'ring clover gay;

and when ye wing your annual way

frae our ud shore,

tell thae far warlds wha lies in y,

wham we deplore.

ye houlets, frae your ivy bow'r

in some auld tree, or eldritch tow'r,

what time the moon, wi' silent glow'r,

sets up her horn,

wail thro' the dreary midnight hour,

till waukrife morn!

o rivers, forests, hills, and ins!

oft have ye heard my canty strains;

but now, what else for me remains

but tales of woe;

and frae my een the drapping rains

maun ever flow.

mourn, spring, thou darling of the year!

ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear:

thou, simmer, while each corny spear

shoots up its head,

thy gay, green, flow'ry tresses shear,

for him that's dead!

thou, autumn, wi' thy yellow hair,

in grief thy sallow mantle tear!

thou, winter, hurling thro' the air

the roaring st,

wide o'er the naked world dere

the worth we've lost!

mourn him, thou sun, great source of light!

mourn, empress of the silent night!

and you, ye twinkling starnies bright,

my matthew mourn!

for through your orbs he's ta'en his flight,

ne'er to return.

o henderson! the man! the brother!

and art thou gone, and gone for ever!

and hast thou crost that unknown river,

life's dreary bound!

like thee, where shall i find another,

the world around!

go to your sculptur'd tombs, ye great,

in a' the tinsel trash o' state!

but by thy honest turf i'll wait,

thou man of worth!

and weep the ae best fellow's fate

e'ery in earth.