Oh! we hae a' to die, dear, <br />We're a' to gang awa'; <br />We, when Death's wind blows by, dear, <br />Like apples hae to fa'; <br />Howe'er we may be clinging, <br />Be green or rosy hinging, <br />When we hear the wind singing <br />A glamour's over a'. <br />We drap unto the ground, dear, <br />Each frae the boughs we fa', <br />When we hear the wind sound, dear, <br />The voice in the wind ca'! <br />It comes through leagues o' heaven, <br />A dream-joy to it given, <br />It comes at morn or even <br />Wi' the glamour over a'. <br />We'll wait for it to blow, dear — <br />How sweet the birdies ca'! <br />The flowers come and go, dear, <br />There's peace atween us twa: <br />The love-light round us clinging, <br />'Tis sweet, together hinging, <br />To wait for the wind's singing <br />Wi' the glamour over a'.<br /><br />Robert Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wind-o-death/
