Poems by James Hyslop ... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns |
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The Lassie wi' the Saft, Dark E'e.
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 | Poems by James Hyslop |  |
XV.
The Lassie wi' the Saft, Dark E'e.
Gi'e mirth and pleasure's heartless sons
Their sparklin' cups o' dark red wine,
The dance, where courtly ladies gay
In rustlin' silks and diamonds shine;
There's ae sweet lassie far away,
Is dearer, lovelier far, to me,—
My Lydia, by the mountain stream,
Wi' shinin' hair and dark, sweet e'e.
Their sparklin' cups o' dark red wine,
The dance, where courtly ladies gay
In rustlin' silks and diamonds shine;
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Is dearer, lovelier far, to me,—
My Lydia, by the mountain stream,
Wi' shinin' hair and dark, sweet e'e.
O mony a sweet returnin' year
O' happiness has o'er us flown;
An' mony a sweet returnin' year
I yet shall clasp her all my own!
I'll ne'er forget youth's simmer days,
The primrose bank, the green wood tree.
Where first we met, and oft ha'e blest,
The lassie wi' the saft, dark e'e.
O' happiness has o'er us flown;
An' mony a sweet returnin' year
I yet shall clasp her all my own!
I'll ne'er forget youth's simmer days,
The primrose bank, the green wood tree.
Where first we met, and oft ha'e blest,
The lassie wi' the saft, dark e'e.
Nae costly gems, nor rubies bright,
Nor shinin' emeralds I prepare
To glance upon thy fingers white,
Or braid thy links o' auburn hair;
But, in my happiest, fondest hours,
I'll twine a wreath o' love for thee,
An' bind it round thy snawy brow,
Dear Lydia, wi' the saft, dark e'e.
Nor shinin' emeralds I prepare
To glance upon thy fingers white,
Or braid thy links o' auburn hair;
But, in my happiest, fondest hours,
I'll twine a wreath o' love for thee,
An' bind it round thy snawy brow,
Dear Lydia, wi' the saft, dark e'e.
| Poems by James Hyslop | |