I Dream'd I Lay Where Flowers Were Springing

I dream’d I lay where flowers were springing

     Gaily in the sunny beam;

List’ning to the wild birds singing,

     By a falling, crystal stream;

Straight the sky grew black and daring;

     Thro’ the woods the whirlwinds rave;

Trees with aged arms were warring

     O’er the swelling, drumlie wave.

Such was my life’s deceitful morning,

     Such the pleasures I enjoy’d;

But lang or noon, loud tempests storming

     A’ my flowry bliss destoy’d.

Tho’ fickle fortune has deceived me,

     She promis’d fair, and perform’d but ill;

Of mony a joy and hope bereav’d me,

     I bear a heart shall support me still.

-          Robert Burns