My lov’d, much honour’d, much respected friend!
No mercenary bard his homage pays;
With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,
My dearest meed, a friend’s esteem and praise:
To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,
The lowly train in life’s sequester’d scene;
The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;
What Aiken in a cottage would have been;
Ah! tho’ his worth unknown, far happier there I ween!
Your poem of the day. For those who are wondering, a \”cotter\” was a peasant in 19th century Scotland who was allowed to use cot/cottage. Hence the term \”cotter\” 🙂
God bless you all my darling avidReaders. Have a lovely weekend 🙂 I\’m going to be spending time with mine. I suggest you do the same. Take some time to appreciate the people you love.