Fur William Blake

Whaun day's a closin curtain,
Sun's a slippin band o reid,
Ilkie flooer's a snibbit petal,
Ilkie bird's a happit heid,

Syne silence, in a stately goun,
Walks siller-grey on green,
An will o wisps are gaitherin,
The caunle-rikk o dream.

In sleep ye's walk a slender road,
Whaur aathing tint, an tyned,
May rise, the perfume o a rose,
The ferlies o the mind.

An ye's may see a belted knight,
A hawk upon his glove:
The darg o day's a corbie cruel
That dines foriver on the dove.

A road tae traivel at yer will,
A Jacob's laidder far an fey,
Whaur silken spirits cast aside
The cloots o puir mortality.

A bonnie road, an elfin road,
That rins frae gloam till dawn,
A watergaw across the nicht,
The gledsome lan o dwaum.