Classic Poem

I T'S rare to see the morning bleeze
—Like a bonfire frae the sea,
It's fair to see the burnie kiss
—The lip o' the flowery lea;
An' fine it is on green hillside,
—Where hums the bonnie bee,
But rarer, fairer, finer far
—Is the ingle-side for me.

Glens may be gilt wi' gowans rare,
—The birds may fill the tree;
An' haughs hae a' the scented ware
—The simmer-growth can gie:
But the canty hearth where cronies meet,
—An' the darling o' our e'e,
That makes to us a warl' complete:
—Oh, the ingle-side for me!