The Gean-Trees

I mind, when I dream at nicht,     Whaur the bonnie Sidlaws stand     Wi' their feet on the dark'nin' land     An their heids i' the licht;     An the thochts o' youth roll back     Like wreaths frae the hillside track     In the Vale o' Strathmore;     And the autumn leaves are turnin'     And the flame o' the gean-trees burnin'     Roond the white hoose door.     Aye me, when spring cam' green     And May-month decked the shaws     There was scarce a blink o' the wa's     For the flower o' the gean;     But when the hills were blue     Ye could see them glintin' through     An the sun i' the lift;     An the flower o' the gean-trees fa'in'     Was like pairls frae the branches snawin'     In a lang white drift.     Thae trees are fair and gay     When May-month's in her prime,     But I'm thrawn wi' the blasts o' time     An my heid's white as they;     But an auld man aye thinks lang     O' the hauchs he played amang     In his braw youth-tide;     An there's ane that aye keeps yearnin'     For a hoose whaur the leaves are turnin'     An the flame o' the gean-tree burnin'     By the Sidlaws' side.