The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir Edited by Thomas Aird: With A Memoir of the Author |
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 | The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir |  |
116
MARY DHU.
I
Sweet, sweet is the rose-budBathed in dew;
But sweeter art thou,
My Mary dhu.
O! the skies of night,
With their eyes of light,
Are not so bright
As my Mary dhu.
Whenever thy radiant face I see,
The clouds of sorrow depart from me;
As the shadows fly
From day's bright eye,
Thou lightest life's sky,
My Mary dhu.
II
Sad, sad is my heartWhen I sigh, Adieu!
Or gaze on thy parting,
My Mary dhu:
117
Till thy steps' return
Bids my bosom burn—
My Mary dhu.
I think but of thee on the broom-clad hills;
I muse but of thee on the moorland rills:
In the morning light,
In the moonshine bright,
Thou art still in my sight,
My Mary dhu.
III
Thy voice trembles through me,Like the breeze,
That ruffles, in gladness,
The leafy trees;
'Tis a wafted tone
From Heaven's high throne,
Making hearts thine own,
My Mary dhu.
Be the flowers of joy ever round thy feet,
With colours glowing, and incense sweet;
And, when thou must away,
May life's rose decay
In the west wind's sway—
My Mary dhu!
| The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir | |