 | The Poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
95
THE LILY OF LOCH-INE.
She was very, very fair,
Like a Saint in her blonde hair,—
Like Raphael's Madonna,
With a certain shade of care
And a glory breaking on her!
Like a Saint in her blonde hair,—
Like Raphael's Madonna,
With a certain shade of care
And a glory breaking on her!
In the kirkyard let her lie,
Let the thistles and the burs
Cover up the twofold life,
The sinless life and hers.
God have mercy on that day
When the grave gives up the Dead
And the World shall pass away.
Let the thistles and the burs
Cover up the twofold life,
The sinless life and hers.
God have mercy on that day
When the grave gives up the Dead
And the World shall pass away.
Now Sir Rohan sails the sea,
Loud he laughs above his wine,
And he never, never thinks
Of the Lily of Loch-Ine.
God have mercy on that day
When the grave gives up the Dead
And the World shall pass away.
Loud he laughs above his wine,
And he never, never thinks
Of the Lily of Loch-Ine.
God have mercy on that day
When the grave gives up the Dead
And the World shall pass away.
| The Poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |