The Book of Scottish Song/The Wanderer's Return

The Wanderer’s Return.

[Written by W. A. C. Shand, and first published in "The Edinburgh University Souvenir," 1883, a little volume of which the author was editor. Mr. Shand is a native of Aberdeen, and at present resident in Russia.]

Alone, alone, in the evening beam,
By the flowery marge of my native stream,
Weary, and wan, and faint I stand,
'Mid the old green bowers of my fatherland.

I hear the strain of the wandering rills,
In sob and swell 'mid the far-off hills;
Softly blent, as they dream along,
With the reaper's shout and the goatherd's song.

Oh, woe! oh, woe! that my heart should wear
The dull dark shadow of grief and care,
With wood, and lake, and stream unroll'd,
As fresh and fair as in times of old!

Again I turn to my father's hearth,
Hat it rings no more with the tones of mirth;
And I list in vain, in the sunset calm,
For the low glad note of the evening psalm.

The moon! the moon! but she looks not in
On childhood's laughter and manhood's din!
Lonely and dim her pale gleams fall
O'er broken lattice and crumbling wall!

My brethren! my brethren, where are they—where?
Are they gather'd yet round my mother's chair?
Do they wander still in the forests dim,
The strong of arm, and the fleet of limb?

Oh, no—oh, no—they shall weave no more,
By lake and dale as in days of yore,
In antique garland and wild festoon,
The starry blossoms and leaves of June!

Alone, alone, in the evening beam,
By the flowery marge of my native stream,
Weary, and wan, and faint I stand,
'Mid the old green bowers of my fatherland.

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