At the edge o a time, the tide n the licht begin

tae tell thir sweir-drawn bye-the-nou thegither –

the saft saund-slaikin-straikin, the sunslant

stellin an oor in lamer, the ootrug gaan

a bittie faurder ilka turn – awthegither:
        twa welcome guests wae twa awa, mindin on

        tae spear at yir lasses, n syne, a when

        stappies nearere the door, turnin tae sae

        hoo leesom    n    wi maun    n   mair aft,

        n sic n sic-like, till watcht doon the road.
Nou, I this ower-seendle times, the stanes,

weetit n luntit, warship. Thay air colour.

saphir, ruby, dymont, dymont – ye wadna

hae trouit thare wis sae mony jems I the warld,

that mony prisms on wan weel-kent strand.