Forest Runes

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. OT that the gift of poesy is mine, Nor that I claim the poet's meed of praise, But in remembrance of the golden days Of youth, have I inscribed these simple lays To thee, my brother, and to auld lang syne. The rolling years have thinned our locks of brown To a scant fleece of salt-and-pepper gray More rapidly the seasons pass away With stead-ier, slower beat our-pulses play.