Page:History of Will & Jean.pdf/23

 Here, supported, cheered, and cherished, Nine blest months I’ve lived, and mair; Seen these infants clad and nourished, Dried my tears, and tint despair:

Sometimes servin’, sometimes spinnin’, Light the lanesome hours gae round, Lightly, too, ilk quarter rinnin’ Brings yon angel’s helping pound.”

“Eight pounds mair,” cried Willie, fondly- “Eight pounds mair will do nae harm; And, oh Jean ! gin friends were kindly, Twelve pounds soon might stock a farm.

There, ance mair, to thrive by ploughin’, Freed frae a’ that peace destroys— Idle waste and drucken ruin, War, and a’ its murdering joys!”

Thrice he kissed his lang-lost treasure— Thrice ilk bairn, but couldna speak: Tears of love, and hope, and pleasure, Streamed in silence down his cheek.