Heath flowers being a collection of poems, chiefly lyrical, written in the Highlands. By William Glen |
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[When again will I see the red heather-bell waving?]
When again will I see the red heather-bell waving?
When again on Led-Ard will I hear the sweet breeze?
When again will I list to the howling storm raving,
Amang the gay foliage of Aberfoyle trees?
The scenes of my youth-time again I'll see never,
Nor again will I wander by Forth's winding river,
And you, my fair Maiden, O! farewel for ever,
Mo ghrādh, lovely Jenny, for ever adieu!
When again on Led-Ard will I hear the sweet breeze?
When again will I list to the howling storm raving,
Amang the gay foliage of Aberfoyle trees?
The scenes of my youth-time again I'll see never,
Nor again will I wander by Forth's winding river,
And you, my fair Maiden, O! farewel for ever,
Mo ghrādh, lovely Jenny, for ever adieu!
Tho' far frae the summit o' sweet pleasure hurled,
To rude distant climes I a wanderer go—
A Highlander's breast is the same thro' the world,
And mine will remain as the new driven snow,
And oft for Led-Ard my breast will be sighing,
Remembrance will soothe me when laid 'mong the dying,
And while speech is left, I will utter it crying,
Mo ghrādh, lovely Jenny, for ever adieu!
To rude distant climes I a wanderer go—
A Highlander's breast is the same thro' the world,
And mine will remain as the new driven snow,
And oft for Led-Ard my breast will be sighing,
Remembrance will soothe me when laid 'mong the dying,
And while speech is left, I will utter it crying,
Mo ghrādh, lovely Jenny, for ever adieu!
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