THE GLOOMY night is gath'ring fast, <br />Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast, <br />Yon murky cloud is foul with rain, <br />I see it driving o'er the plain; <br />The hunter now has left the moor. <br />The scatt'red coveys meet secure; <br />While here I wander, prest with care, <br />Along the lonely banks of Ayr. <br /> <br /> <br />The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn <br />By early Winter's ravage torn; <br />Across her placid, azure sky, <br />She sees the scowling tempest fly: <br />Chill runs my blood to hear it rave; <br />I think upon the stormy wave, <br />Where many a danger I must dare, <br />Far from the bonie banks of Ayr. <br /> <br /> <br />'Tis not the surging billow's roar, <br />'Tis not that fatal, deadly shore; <br />Tho' death in ev'ry shape appear, <br />The wretched have no more to fear: <br />But round my heart the ties are bound, <br />That heart transpierc'd with many a wound; <br />These bleed afresh, those ties I tear, <br />To leave the bonie banks of Ayr. <br /> <br /> <br />Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales, <br />Her healthy moors and winding vales; <br />The scenes where wretched Fancy roves, <br />Pursuing past, unhappy loves! <br />Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes! <br />My peace with these, my love with those: <br />The bursting tears my heart declare— <br />Farewell, the bonie banks of Ayr!<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/farewell-to-the-banks-of-ayr/
