To A Crow

BOLD, amiable, ebon outlaw, grave and wise!

For many a good green year hast thou withstood -

By dangerous, planted field and haunted wood—

All the devices of thine enemies,

Gleaning thy grudgëd bread with watchful eyes

And self-relying soul. Come ill or good,

Blithe days thou see’st, thou feathered Robin Hood!

Thou mak’st a jest of farm-land boundaries.

Take all thou may’st, and never count it crime

To rob the greatest robber of the earth,

Weak-visioned, dull, self-lauding man, whose worth

Is in his own esteem. Bide thou thy time;

Thou know’st far more of Nature’s lore than he,

And her wide lap shall still provide for thee.

Robert Burns Wilson

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An Gleann Mòr

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Sunrays and Blue Days