To a town in Southern land <br />Light of purse I come and lone; <br />And I pause awhile, and stand <br />By a pedestal of stone; <br />And I bend my head and bow <br />While my heart to Scotland turns, <br />For I know I’m standing now <br />‘Neath the form of Robbie Burns. <br /> <br />Round the corners of the lips <br />Lines of laughter seem to run; <br />From the merry eye there slips <br />Just a twinkle as of fun. <br />Living in the sculptor’s art, <br />Set in stone, mine eye discerns <br />All the beauty, and a part <br />Of the soul, of Robert Burns. <br /> <br />One of Caledonia’s sons, <br />Coming lonely to the land. <br />Well might think he’d met a friend <br />Who would take him by the hand, <br />And the tears spring to his eyes, <br />While his heart for friendship yearns; <br />And from out that heart he cries, <br />“Heaven bless ye, Bobbie Burns.” <br /> <br />“Unto me, as unto you, <br />Has a hard world done ill turns; <br />And the sorrows that you knew <br />I am learning Bobbie Burns. <br />But I’ll keep my heart above <br />Until, after many moons, <br />I return to friends I love, <br />And to banks line bonnie Doon’s.”<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/statue-of-robert-burns/
