Poems (Gould, 1833)/The Siller Pen

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THE SILLER PEN.
I tell you what! twixt frien' an frien',I dinna like the siller pen.An', sin' my reason ye wad ken, Tho' odd enough, I 'll gie it.It is too perfect—ilka partIt does, is wi' sic care an' art,There's nae a particlelo' heart Or feelin' gangin wi' it!
T is nae the siller I despise;For poortith loud an' daily cries;An', if I had but mair supplies, I'd then feel a' the better.But, tho' 't wad truly glad my eenTo see its bright an' cheerfu' sheen,My purse's hollow sides between, Ise shun it in the letter!
I wad na see the new-born thought,Laid on the sheet, sae stiff an' straught,As if 't were dead, an' cauld; an' brought Before me for interment.I like the gracefu', yieldin nib,To gang sae careless an' sae glib,An' shoot my fancies, like a squib, Just while they're in the ferment!
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An', whiles (ye 've, aiblins, felt the pain,)I wait upon the tardy brainFor something I can ne'er obtain, An' founder'd a' thegether;I like, if I can do nae mair,To hae the quill to scrape an' pare,An' find the faut o' dullness there, In honest goosie's feather.
For nature's laws maun be obey'd,An' this is ane she strictly laidOn ilka saul she ever made, Down frae our earliest mither:'Be sel your first an' greatest care—Frae a' reproach the darlin spare,An' ony blame, that she should bear, Pit off upon anither!'
Had nature ta'en a second thought,A better precept she had taught;An' guid instead o' evil wrought By those the power possessin!For, sel had been pit out o' sight,The love o' ithers brought to light:In short, the wrang had a' been right, An' man to man a blessin!
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