 | Poems and Lancashire Songs |  |
126
SONG.
I
At the close of day, her melting layAs Philomel began,
A maiden sang as she did stray,
And thus the carol ran:
II
Oh, the daisy, and the sweet bluebell,And the bonny celandine;
My darling's feet have touched the dell,
And made the posies fine.
127
III
Soft whispering gales, on viewless wings,Come o'er the rippling sea;
But ah, no news the west wind brings
From my true love to me.
IV
The wild bee roves the flowery wold;Be still, dear heart of mine;
My darling is a cup of gold
That's running o'er with wine.
V
Sweet bird, whose tender warble fillsThe ear of fading day,
Go, sing for me those liquid trills,
That fond complaining lay.
| Poems and Lancashire Songs | |