Whaur extremes meet

Running rest-day ... and keeping the 'Scottish poetry theme' going; here's an excerpt from the pictured (1987) annotated edition of Hugh MacDiarmid's classic, "A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle":


A DRUNK MAN ...

I doot I'm geylies mixed, like Life itsel',
But I was never ane that thocht to pit
An ocean in a mutchkin. As the haill's
Mair than the pairt sae I than reason yet.

I dinna haud the warld's end in my heid
As maist folk think they dae; nor filter truth
In fishy gillls through which its tides may poor
For ony animaculae forsooth.

I lauch to see my crazy little brain
- And ither folks' - tak'n itsel seriously,
And in a sudden lowe o fun my saul
Blinks dozent as the owl I ken't to be.

I'll hae nae hauf-way hoose, but aye be whaur
Extremes meet - it's the only way I ken
to dodge the curst conceit o bein richt
That damns the vast majority o men.

I'll bury nae heid like an ostrich's
Nor yet beleive my een and naething else.
My senses may advise me, but I'll be
Mysel nae maitter what they tell's...

I hae nae doot some foreign philosopher
Has wrocht a system oot to justify
Aa this: but I'm a Scot wha blin'ly follows
Auld Scottish instincts, and I winna try.