The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
The Bower of Tay.
Wear away, ye hues of spring,
Ye blooms of summer fade away;
Round the welcome season bring
That leads my steps to Highland Tay.
Dear to me the day—the hour,
When last her winding wave I saw,
But dearer still the bonnie bower
That lies aneath yon greenwood shaw.
Ye blooms of summer fade away;
Round the welcome season bring
That leads my steps to Highland Tay.
Dear to me the day—the hour,
When last her winding wave I saw,
But dearer still the bonnie bower
That lies aneath yon greenwood shaw.
Aye we sat, and aye we sighed,
For there was one my arms within;
Aye the restless stream we eyed,
And heard its soft and soothing din:
The sun had sought Glen-Lyon's glade,
Forth peered the evening's modest gem;
And every little cloud that strayed
Looked gaudy in its gowden hem.
For there was one my arms within;
Aye the restless stream we eyed,
And heard its soft and soothing din:
The sun had sought Glen-Lyon's glade,
Forth peered the evening's modest gem;
And every little cloud that strayed
Looked gaudy in its gowden hem.
The playful breeze across the plain
Brought far the wood-lark's wooer tale,
And gambolled o'er the mellow grain
In mimic waves adown the dale.
I saw the drops of dew so clear
Upon the green leaf trembling lie,
And, sweeter far, the crystal tear
That trembled in a lovely eye.
Brought far the wood-lark's wooer tale,
And gambolled o'er the mellow grain
In mimic waves adown the dale.
I saw the drops of dew so clear
Upon the green leaf trembling lie,
And, sweeter far, the crystal tear
That trembled in a lovely eye.
When lovers meet, 'tis to the mind
The spring-flush of the blooming year;
But oh! their parting leaves behind
A glow to memory ever dear.
Ettrick's fairy banks are green,
And Yarrow braes are mooned with gray;
But gloaming fall was never seen
Like that I viewed in bower of Tay.
The spring-flush of the blooming year;
But oh! their parting leaves behind
A glow to memory ever dear.
407
And Yarrow braes are mooned with gray;
But gloaming fall was never seen
Like that I viewed in bower of Tay.
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |