POLLOKSHIELDS

Beyond Strathbungo, stretching to the west,
            Fair Pollokshields is seen,
With mansions towering high upon its crest,
            And fields of verdant green.

Here architecture in majestic form
            Attracts the passer-by,
While rearing up its head in calm or storm
            Against the western sky.

And Luxury with Wealth delights to dwell
            Within this region fair,
Amidst the many charms that here excel
            In beauty rich and rare.

And here the open landscape, far and wide,
            Unfolds some lovely scenes
Of sylvan beauty where bright joys abide,
            And pleasure intervenes.

While in Maxwell Park, the chief resort
            Of those who here reside,
Both old and young may have delightful sport,
            That makes time sweetly glide.

And on the pond each little sailing boat
            With white sail in the breeze,
May oft be seen to glide or gently float
            With calm, majestic ease.

While others that are drifted by the wind
            May swamp e’er reaching land,
And those that once they left so far behind
            May gain the wished-for strand.

And thus upon the waves of human life
            Are many young hearts tossed,
Unable to contend amidst the strife,
            Before life’s stream is crossed.

And some that seems so beautiful and fair,
            With prospects bright below,
Are caught within the whirlwind’s sudden snare,
            And never reach the shore.

While others, having fortune on their side,
            May smoothly glide along,
With neither boisterous wind nor raging tide,
            To cause them to go wrong.

Yet who can tell the pleasure which it yields
            To those who love to sail
Their tiny boats in pond at Pollokshields,
            Though stormy winds prevail?

While all the beauties which surround this place
            Are open to the sight,
And in them many pleasures we may trace
            To give our hearts delight.