Address to the Shade of Thomsen / Robert Burns

"While cold-eyed Spring, a virgin coy,

Unfolds her verdant mantle sweet,

Or pranks the sod in frolic joy,

A carpet for her youthful feet:

"While Summer, with a matron's grace,

Walks stately in the cooling shade,

And oft delighted loves to trace

The progress of the spiky blade:

"While Autumn, benefactor kind,

With age's hoary honours clad,

Surveys, with self-approving mind,

Each creature on his bounty fed."]

While virgin Spring, by Eden's flood,

Unfolds her tender mantle green,

Or pranks the sod in frolic mood,

Or tunes Æolian strains between:

While Summer, with a matron grace,

Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade,

Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace

The progress of the spiky blade:

While Autumn, benefactor kind,

By Tweed erects his aged head,

And sees, with self-approving mind,

Each creature on his bounty fed:

While maniac Winter rages o'er

The hills whence classic Yarrow flows,

Rousing the turbid torrent's roar,

Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows:

So long, sweet Poet of the year!

Shall bloom that wreath thou well hast won;

While Scotia, with exulting tear,

Proclaims that Thomson was her son.