THE SUN had clos�d the winter day,The curless quat their roarin play,And hunger�d maukin taen her way,To kail-yards green,While faithless snaws ilk step betrayWhare she has been.The thresher�s weary flingin-tree,The lee-lang day had tired me;And when the day had clos�d his e�e,Far i� the west,Ben i� the spence, right pensivelie,I gaed to rest.There, lanely by the ingle-cheek,I sat and ey�d the
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