 | New songs of innocence |  |
26
AT THE LOCH-SIDE.
The willows wade in the water
Down at the dark loch-side;
To the boatman's little daughter
They are trusty friends and tried.
Of her it is they're dreaming
The long, lone winter through;
For her in spring they're teeming
With silver catkins new.
Down at the dark loch-side;
To the boatman's little daughter
They are trusty friends and tried.
Of her it is they're dreaming
The long, lone winter through;
For her in spring they're teeming
With silver catkins new.
My Willie here has wandered
The sunny uplands o'er,
Where every season squandered
The riches of her store.
For him the spring brought gowans,
The summer roses shed,
And autumn's ruddy rowans
Still cluster o'er his head.
The sunny uplands o'er,
Where every season squandered
The riches of her store.
For him the spring brought gowans,
The summer roses shed,
And autumn's ruddy rowans
Still cluster o'er his head.
He looks at the deep dark water,
And the dismal willows now:—
The boatman's little daughter,
She knows them, leaf and bough.
All her life she has played there,
And missed nor joy nor grace—
But Willie stands dismayed there
At the sorrow of the place!
And the dismal willows now:—
The boatman's little daughter,
She knows them, leaf and bough.
All her life she has played there,
And missed nor joy nor grace—
But Willie stands dismayed there
At the sorrow of the place!
| New songs of innocence | |