The gloomy night is gath'ring fast, <br />Loud roars the wild inconstant blast; <br />Yon murky cloud is filled 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 />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 />'Tis not the surging billows' roar, <br />'Tis not the fatal, deadly shore; <br />Tho' death inev'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 />Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales, <br />Her heathy 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, my bonie banks of Ayr.<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gloomy-night-is-gath-ring-fast/
