Abroad With The Bard

In honour of Burns' Night; a poem what I made earlier:-

A tree with tortured branches
Holds aloft dusk's canopy.
The velvet blue of Royal France
With silver Fleur de Lys.
And round the edge, more green than blue;
A smaller world of lighter hue.
Where in the summer insects flew;
Soft brings Burns' verse to me.

It says he sees the same as I,
But better gifted sings.
And though on Scotia's shore he stands;
He flies on poet's wings.
Auld Nature Dear, at hame or here;
In written homage still we dare
Describe her as our fancies see her.
More bounteous than Kings.

And so when I peruse in time
The frailties of my verse.
His praise song to a Mountain Daisy
Makes my words seem terse.
If only he and I could meet;
I'd sit enraptured at his feet.
Hear Mother Nature through him speak;
In English, Scots or French.

Nice poem, very well written. Elegantly nostalgic. A great hommage to Burns, I hope he posts a comment on this site!!!