ON AYR.
LIVING AT WELLINGTON SQUARE.
I went to pass some months at Ayr,
Thinking of beauty, sunshine there;
And poesie, to give the scene
A radiance all its own, I ween.
But oh, alas! a blank came o'er
My spirit's life; for ne'er before
Have I seen such a dismal square,
Entombing all my hopes of Ayr.
For I must have to glad my heart,
Something of beauty—nature's art;
Tall spreading trees, and flowerets gay,
Huge mountains, towering far away;
A sea-view in the distance gleaming,
And harvest fields, with full grain teeming;
Music of birds, and perfumed air.
How could I find such things at Ayr?
And echo only answered, "Where?"
Thinking of beauty, sunshine there;
And poesie, to give the scene
A radiance all its own, I ween.
But oh, alas! a blank came o'er
My spirit's life; for ne'er before
Have I seen such a dismal square,
Entombing all my hopes of Ayr.
For I must have to glad my heart,
Something of beauty—nature's art;
Tall spreading trees, and flowerets gay,
Huge mountains, towering far away;
A sea-view in the distance gleaming,
And harvest fields, with full grain teeming;
Music of birds, and perfumed air.
How could I find such things at Ayr?
And echo only answered, "Where?"
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