Page:Underwoods, Stevenson, 1887.djvu/53

 XIV

TO ANDREW LANG

Andrew, with the brindled hair,

Who glory to have thrown in air,

High over arm, the trembling reed,

By Ale and Kail, by Till and Tweed:

An equal craft of hand you show

The pen to guide, the fly to throw:

I count you happy starred; for God,

When He with inkpot and with rod

Endowed you, bade your fortune lead

Forever by the crooks of Tweed,

Forever by the woods of song

And lands that to the Muse belong;

Or if in peopled streets, or in

The abhorred pedantic sanhedrim,