When the breath, After a long still pause, returned no more, The old man sank upon his knees, and said: "Father, I thank thee; it is over now; And thou hast helped him well through this sore time. So one by one we all come back to thee, All sons and brothers, thanking thee who didst Put of thy fatherhood in our poor hearts, That, having children, we might guess thy love. And at the last, find all loves one in thee." And then he rose, and comforted the maid, Who in her brother lost the pride of life, Weeping as all her heaven were full of rain. When that which was so like him--so unlike-- Lay in the churchyard, and the green turf soon Would grow together, healing up the wounds Of the old Earth who took her share again, The sister went to do his last request. Then found she, with his other papers, this,-- A farewell song, in lowland Scottish tongue:-- Greetna, father, that I'm gaein'. For fu' weel ye ken the gaet. I' the winter, corn ye're sawin'-- I' the hairst, again ye hae't. I'm gaein' hame to see my mither-- She'll be weel acquant or this, Sair we'll muse at ane anither, 'Tween the auld word an' new kiss. Love, I'm doubtin', will be scanty Roun' ye baith, when I'm awa'; But the kirk has happin' plenty Close aside me, for you twa. An' aboon, there's room for mony-- 'Twas na made for ane or twa; But it grew for a' an' ony Countin' love the best ava'. Here, aneath, I ca' ye father: Auld names we'll nor tyne nor spare; A' my sonship I maun gather, For the Son is King up there. Greetna, father, that I'm gaein'; For ye ken fu' weel the gaet: Here, in winter, cast yer sawin'-- There, in hairst, again ye hae't.