 | Annie Weir and Other Poems |  |
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THE SIN O' SANG.
I've come, sweet Jean, while owre the hills
The evening shadows steal—
I've come to give thee back thy love,
And say for aye, fareweel:
It is nae that my love's grown cauld—
For that can never be;
But I hae sinned the sin o' sang,
And daurnae wed with thee.
The evening shadows steal—
I've come to give thee back thy love,
And say for aye, fareweel:
It is nae that my love's grown cauld—
For that can never be;
But I hae sinned the sin o' sang,
And daurnae wed with thee.
I thought my dreams were “beams frae heaven,”
And hailed them aye wi' glee;
For aft they showed a happy home,
Whare thou the queen should be.
And Hope was ever at my side,
New pleasures to reveal;
And so I sinned the sin o' sang,
And I maun say fareweel.
And hailed them aye wi' glee;
For aft they showed a happy home,
Whare thou the queen should be.
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New pleasures to reveal;
And so I sinned the sin o' sang,
And I maun say fareweel.
Oh! dinna look sae waefu', Jean;
Nae heartless loon am I,
To win a bonny lassie's love,
Then careless bid good-bye.
Oh! fondly, fondly I hae wished
To win thee for my ain;
But I hae sinned the sin o' sang,
And now maun wed wi' nane.
Nae heartless loon am I,
To win a bonny lassie's love,
Then careless bid good-bye.
Oh! fondly, fondly I hae wished
To win thee for my ain;
But I hae sinned the sin o' sang,
And now maun wed wi' nane.
To him who sins that deadly sin,
And canna frae't refrain,
Thrift's sure to be the rainbow's base,
Pursued for aye in vain.
Oh! seldom will they drink o' joy,
Who life's cup wi' him pree,
And, Jeannie, I hae sinned that sin,
And daurnae wed wi' thee.
And canna frae't refrain,
Thrift's sure to be the rainbow's base,
Pursued for aye in vain.
Oh! seldom will they drink o' joy,
Who life's cup wi' him pree,
And, Jeannie, I hae sinned that sin,
And daurnae wed wi' thee.
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Oh! had I but in secret sung,
And won nae praise but thine,
A lot that angels might hae grudged,
Dear Jeannie, would been mine.
But, far and near, the're some that ken,
And my reward is sure—
A loveless and a lonely home,
And eke a life o' care.
And won nae praise but thine,
A lot that angels might hae grudged,
Dear Jeannie, would been mine.
But, far and near, the're some that ken,
And my reward is sure—
A loveless and a lonely home,
And eke a life o' care.
Oh! if there had been but one hope
To shimmer in the van
Of labour's battle, I for thee
Would fouchten like a man;
And like a man I'll fight, although
Success will smile nae mair;
For I hae sinned the sin o' sang,
And maun for aye be puir.
To shimmer in the van
Of labour's battle, I for thee
Would fouchten like a man;
And like a man I'll fight, although
Success will smile nae mair;
For I hae sinned the sin o' sang,
And maun for aye be puir.
Thou kens that in the hive o' life
No idler I hae been,
But aye wi' glowing hands amang
The toilers hae been seen;
But “This is he that murdered Time”
Is written on my brow,
And wha in a' the busy world
Will dare to trust me now?
No idler I hae been,
But aye wi' glowing hands amang
The toilers hae been seen;
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Is written on my brow,
And wha in a' the busy world
Will dare to trust me now?
| Annie Weir and Other Poems | |