Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE AE WEE ROOM, by ELLEN C. NICHOLSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE AE WEE ROOM, by                    
First Line: It's years sin' last we left it - oh, sae weel's I mind the day!
Last Line: The thocht o' puirtith's happy days in ae wee room.
Alternate Author Name(s): Nicholson, Mrs. James
Subject(s): Rooms; Women


IT's years sin' last we left it -- oh, sae weel's I mind the day!
My hair was broon an' bonnie then, that's noo sae thin an' grey.
Waes me! for a' the years hae had o' gladness an' o' gloom,
They've gi'en me naething dearer than my ae wee room.

Sae weel's I mind the wee bit hoose -- the burn -- the bonnie yaird --
The lauchin' o' the bairns ootbye upon the sunny swaird --
The summer scents o' thymey knowes an' clover leas in bloom,
The breezes brocht at e'enin's to my ae wee room.

It had but little plenishin'; the wa's were unco bare;
But John was young, an' I was young, an' love was wi' us there!
An' but-an'-ben my Johnnie wrocht an' liltit at his loom,
While I wad croon the owercome in oor ae wee room.

An' oh, the happy simmer e'ens for John, an' bairns, an' me!
Sic daffin' doon beside the burn -- sic racin' owre the lea --
Sic pu'in' o' the gowans an' the bonnie yellow broom,
To deck the shinin' dresser o' oor ae wee room!

The simmers noo are unco blae, the winters cruel cauld;
It's maybe that thae twa-three years I've grown sae frail an' auld.
But, eh! langsyne, though snaws were deep an' gurly skies micht gloom,
We aye had simmer sunlicht in oor ae wee room.

Noo John has land and hooses braw, an' mickle warl's gear;
An' we hae left the ae wee room for sax-an'-thretty year;
But through them a' I've miss'd the sangs he sang me at his loom;
For Love seem'd left ahint us in oor ae wee room.

I've miss'd my bonnie bairnies, for the youngest dee'd ere lang;
The eldest sail'd across the seas; the bonniest gaed wrang.
Oh! purses may be fu', I trow, and hearts be unco toom,
We'd better kept oor bairnies in oor ae wee room.

There's heaven afore us a', they say; but heaven's ahint for me --
The wee cot-hoose, the bonnie yaird, the burnie, an' the lea!
The dreary muir o' cauldrife age has still a spot o' bloom --
The thocht o' puirtith's happy days in ae wee room.





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