ORIGINAL POETRY.

Otago Witness, Issue 402, 13 August 1859, Page 3

ORIGINAL POETRY.

AULD LANGSYNE. How dear the recollections are

Of days long since gone by ; They soothe the weaiy wounded heart — •

They bid our sorrows fly ! The days — the happy days of yore,

When joy and peace weie tn'ne ; How biightly tinted do they seem,

The days of auld langsyne ! An exile now I wander on

Beneath a foreign sky, Afar from scenes of early days

My weary bones may lie. Yet oft my pilgrim thoughts will stray " Across the trackless brine ; And fancy riots wild and free 'Mid mem'ries of langsyne ! Again I see my native isle

Within my boyhood's home ; I stand as in the happy days, Ere I had learned to roam. Each well remembered face is there, Unchanged by lapse of time ; The same — O yes, the very same I loved to greet langsyne! My father gives a welcome fond, My mother's arms embrace, My sisters' looks of love are turned

In rapture on my face. The voices of the silent dead Resound in gladsome chime, With sonj and laugh and words of glee, As in the days langsjne ! And she — my boyhood's star of hope — The beacon of my life — Still gleaming, when I backward turn,

Through years of storm and strife. As fair she rises from the tomb

As when I hailed her mine, And greets me with her gentle smile —

The smile of auld langsyne ! Forgot are cares and sorrows then,

With joy my cup runs o'er ; From home and friends I'll never part— My native land I'll leave no more. Old age's peaceful joys shall chase

The sorrows of my prime : Again, again, I'll happy be, As in the days langsyne. But soon the sparkling vision flies—

Again I am alone ; Too soon, too soon my fancied joys Like withered flow'rs are stroivn. Those happy early days are gone, In vain I may repine : They've fled, alas, they've fled for aye— The days of auld langsyne !