 | Tales, in verse and miscellaneous poems |  |
248
SONG.
[O! come my dear lassie wi' me to the green]
By T. C.
O! come my dear lassie wi' me to the green,
The clover does bud and the daisy is seen—
Remember the promise that ye made yestreen,
To tak' a walk out i' the mornin':
The sun's gouden beams saftly gildeth the morn;
The birds sweetly chantin' their notes frae the thorn:
The dew draps are hingin' sae clear on the corn,
An' sweet smells the flow'rs i' the mornin'.
The clover does bud and the daisy is seen—
Remember the promise that ye made yestreen,
To tak' a walk out i' the mornin':
The sun's gouden beams saftly gildeth the morn;
The birds sweetly chantin' their notes frae the thorn:
The dew draps are hingin' sae clear on the corn,
An' sweet smells the flow'rs i' the mornin'.
Yet still there is something that's dearer to me:
The rose o' thy cheek, and the blink o' thy e'e,
Through ilk cross an' care they aye comfort wou'd gi'e,
An' cheer me baith e'enin' an' mornin':
The king wi' his crown, or the duke wi' his star,
May elbow for honour or counsel for war:
Sic cares bring but crosses—I'm happier far
When walkin' wi' you i' the mornin'.
The rose o' thy cheek, and the blink o' thy e'e,
Through ilk cross an' care they aye comfort wou'd gi'e,
An' cheer me baith e'enin' an' mornin':
249
May elbow for honour or counsel for war:
Sic cares bring but crosses—I'm happier far
When walkin' wi' you i' the mornin'.
The beauties o' Simmer can please while 'tis May,
Yet, how frail is their form, and how short is their stay?
So youth wi' its blossoms will shortly decay—
E'en thy charms will but last like the mornin':
But wat ye what pleasures the bosom can yield,
When love's saft impression true friendship has seal'd,
Frae the cauld blasts o' fortune 'twou'd ay be a bield,
An' cheer us baith e'enin' an' mornin'?
Yet, how frail is their form, and how short is their stay?
So youth wi' its blossoms will shortly decay—
E'en thy charms will but last like the mornin':
But wat ye what pleasures the bosom can yield,
When love's saft impression true friendship has seal'd,
Frae the cauld blasts o' fortune 'twou'd ay be a bield,
An' cheer us baith e'enin' an' mornin'?
| Tales, in verse and miscellaneous poems | |