 | Poems and songs |  |
106
SONG.
[The mists o' love dwell on my soul]
The mists o' love dwell on my soul,
An' dreary prospects fill my ee;
The mists o' love dwell on my soul,
Nae beam o' hope remains wi' me:
For Helen, fairest o' the fair,
On flowery brae or broomwood shaw,
Turns—turns frae me, by riches lured;
Ah! turns frae me her heart awa.
An' dreary prospects fill my ee;
The mists o' love dwell on my soul,
Nae beam o' hope remains wi' me:
For Helen, fairest o' the fair,
On flowery brae or broomwood shaw,
Turns—turns frae me, by riches lured;
Ah! turns frae me her heart awa.
O Helen fair, why didst thou smile?
Why make this breast wi' anguish burn?
Why didst thou rob me o' that peace
Which never, never will return?
Yet, Helen, sweetly pass thy days;
Nae storm invade that heart o' thine.
This breast for thee shall heave a sigh,
A tear bedim this ee o' mine.
Why make this breast wi' anguish burn?
Why didst thou rob me o' that peace
Which never, never will return?
Yet, Helen, sweetly pass thy days;
Nae storm invade that heart o' thine.
This breast for thee shall heave a sigh,
A tear bedim this ee o' mine.
| Poems and songs | |