Dennistoun Online: Scottish+Nursery+Songs
Infant Winter, young November,
Nursling of the glowing woods,
Lo! the sleep is burst that bound thee—
Lift thine eyes above, around thee,
Infant sire of storm and floods.
Through the tangled green and golden
Curtains of thy valley bed,
See the trees hath vied to woo thee,
And with homage to subdue thee—
Show’ring bright leaves o’er thy head.
Let, oh! let their fading glories
Grace the earth while still they may,
For the poplar’s-orange, gleaming,
And the beech’s ruddy beaming,
Warmer seems to make the day.
Now the massy plane-leaf’s twirling,
Down the misty morning light,
And the saugh-tree’s tinted treasure
Seems to seek the earth with pleasure—
Show’ring down from morn till night.
Through the seasons, ever varying,
Hush'd the golden flute of mavis,
Woodland splendour of November,
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