The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith :: :: University of Virginia Library

There were two brothers loved a maid,
Well-a-day!
Side by side they had grown and played,
Yet were not liker than sun and shade:
And the woods are green in May.

One was lord of the house and lands,
Well-a-day!
From the heather hill to the rippled sands,
But the other he had the brains and hands;
And the woods are green in May.

One was sullen and hard and proud,
Well-a-day!
The other he mixed with the common crowd,
Blythe as the lark that singeth loud,
When the woods are green in May.

286

Oh, a maiden's love must be wooed with care,
Well-a-day!
It flits like the pewit here and there,
Hard to follow, and swift to scare;
And the woods are green in May.

A maiden's love has its dainty wiles,
Well-a-day!
Its glances coy, and its mocking smiles,
And is fain to linger by lanes and stiles,
When the woods are green in May.

The laird he came with a high demand,
Well-a-day!
And mickle he spake of his house and land,
And the braes that sloped to the bonnie sand;
And the woods so green in May.

Lightly she laughed at the laird that morn,
Well-a-day!
When I sell my love, she said with scorn,
It shall be for more than cows and corn;
And the woods are green in May.

When I sell my love the price I set,
Well-a-day!
It will be an earl's fair coronet,
But it is not going to market yet;
And the woods are green in May.

Ah! Fate is subtle and deep and dark,
Well-a-day!
'Tis not on the ship that he sets his mark,
But on the tree that shall wreck the barque,
When the woods are green in May.

Oh, the rotten plank in her life was laid,
Well-a-day!
That day when the light heart gaily said
His cowsand corn might not buy a maid,
And the woods are green in May.

Merrily by the trysting tree,
Well-a-day!
She told the tale, and they laughed with glee
That night, the winsome brother and she,
When the woods were green in May.

They went to the Kirk in the summer tide,
Well-a-day!
A gallant lover and graceful bride,
Walking together side by side,
Oh, the woods are green in May.

They went to the Kirk and vowed the vow,
Well-a-day!
And none was there but the priest, I trow,
And the blackbird singing upon the bough,
And the woods are green in May.

Oh, love is sweet with its trust complete,
Well-a-day!
And the rains may fall, and the sun may beat,
But it cares not either for cold or heat;
And the woods are green in May.

He had the brains, and he had the hands,
Well-a-day!
But he was not lord of the house and lands,
And the bonnie green braes by the yellow sands,
And the woods are green in May.

To London town their steps were bent,
Well-a-day!
To the weary London streets they went,
And all but their wealth of love was spent
Ere the woods were green in May.

287

He would coin his thoughts into heaps of gold,
Well-a-day!
For his hope was high, and his heart was bold.—
How oft is the tragic story told!
And the woods are green in May.

Years came and went, and youths were men,
Well-a-day!
They were ageing now who were stalwart then,
And the laird like an old bear kept his den,
Though the woods were green in May.

Grim as a bear in his chimney nook,
Well-a-day!
With a curse on his lip, and a frown in his look,
And a pipe and a mug and a great clasped book;
And the woods are green in May.

A widow came with her sunny child,
Well-a-day!
And oh but her face it was meek and mild!
And white as the daisy undefiled
When the woods are green in May.

With a woeful heart that was like to break,
Well-a-day!
She prayed him, when she died, to take
Her little boy, for his father's sake;
And the woods are green in May.

Might she but keep him for a space,
Well-a-day!
Till heaven should take her, in its grace,
Again to look on her dear lord's face;
And the woods are green in May.

Or if, alas! that might not be,
Well-a-day!
She would be content her boy to see
Now and then by the trysting tree,
Where the woods were green in May.

It's oh so wily he smiled, and grim,
Well-a-day!
The while she pleaded so meek with him,
And her eyes with the great salt tears grew dim
And the woods are green in May.

Wily and hard, as he thought of that,
Well-a-day!
He had been cunningly plotting at:
“So that,” he said, “is your bastard brat”;
And the woods are green in May.

“'Twas an ill market, I'll be sworn,
Well-a-day!
When you sold your love for a wanton's scorn,
Which you would not sell for my cows and corn”;
And the woods are green in May.

Oh, pale as death was her lily-white cheek,
Well-a-day!
And then it flushed with a crimson streak,
And the flash of her eye was no longer meek;
And the woods are green in May.

And the glance of her scorn he ill could brook,
Well-a-day!
Crouching there in the chimney nook
With his pipe and his mug and his great clasped book;
O the woods are green in May!

288

She turned her right and round about,
Well-a-day!
She could not breathe for a fearful doubt,
Yet oh so stately as she went out,
And the woods are green in May.

Stately and grand she turned from him,
Well-a-day!
But her head was dizzy, her eyes were dim,
As she dragged her steps through the meadows trim;
O the woods are green in May!

The steers were slumbering in the shade,
Well-a-day!
And she saw the deer in leafy glade
'Mong the tall green fern and the foxglove wade;
And the woods are green in May.

But straight to the ivied Kirk she went,
Well-a-day!
And her thin hand shook, and her heart grew faint
As over the great paged book she bent;
And the woods are green in May.

For wedding record there was none,
Well-a-day!
And the grey old priest was dead and gone,
And she was a widow and all alone:
And the woods are green in May.

“O mother, your hand it is cold as stone,
Well-a-day!
O mother, your grip it will crush my bone,
But I would not heed if you would not moan”;
And the woods are green in May.

“He did not mean it—he could not know,”
Well-a-day!
She groaned, and her voice was hollow and low,
And her face was set with a death-like woe:
O the woods are green in May.

“My boy, your father loved us well,
Well-a-day!
You never must dream he had that to tell
Which might have sunk a soul to hell.”
O the woods are green in May.

She led him out by the low kirk-door,
Well-a-day!
She led him down to the yellow shore,
And they were not heard of evermore.
But the woods were green in May.