As “Auld Lang Syne” brings Scotland, one and all,
Scotch plaids, Scotch snoods, the blue hills, and clear streams,
The Dee—the Don—Balgounie’s brig’s black wall—
All my boy feelings, all my gentler dreams
Of what I then dreamt, clothed in their own pall—
Like Banquo’s offspring—floating past me seems
My childhood, in this childishness of mine:—
I care not—’tis a glimpse of “Auld Lang Syne.”