Poems and Songs By Robert Gilfillan. Fourth edition. With memoir of the author, and appendix of his latest pieces |
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THOU WEARY MORN. |
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 | Poems and Songs |  |
97
THOU WEARY MORN.
Thou weary morn, when wilt thou dawn?
And yet nae gladness comes wi' day;
But day an' night I mourning sigh
For loved hours fled an' joys away.
My laddie was the kindest swain,
An' sought my heart wi' a' his skill,
An' yet I've tint that lad sae true
Wi' woman's pride an' woman's will.
And yet nae gladness comes wi' day;
But day an' night I mourning sigh
For loved hours fled an' joys away.
My laddie was the kindest swain,
An' sought my heart wi' a' his skill,
An' yet I've tint that lad sae true
Wi' woman's pride an' woman's will.
It wasna but I lo'ed him weel,
It wasna but I thought him kind,
But just that silly pride o' heart
That lovers shouldna ever mind.
He tauld me that my heart was proud,
An' what he said was maybe true;
But little does my laddie ken
How humbled low that heart is now!
It wasna but I thought him kind,
But just that silly pride o' heart
That lovers shouldna ever mind.
He tauld me that my heart was proud,
An' what he said was maybe true;
But little does my laddie ken
How humbled low that heart is now!
98
At kirk I keekit aff my book
To see if he would look at me,
But ne'er a blink gat I frae him,
Although the tear stood in my e'e.
An' when the preachin'-time was done,
Ilk lassie had her lover gay,
While I gaed dowie hame alane,
An', O! it was a weary way!
To see if he would look at me,
But ne'er a blink gat I frae him,
Although the tear stood in my e'e.
An' when the preachin'-time was done,
Ilk lassie had her lover gay,
While I gaed dowie hame alane,
An', O! it was a weary way!
But the lav'rock sings high in the lift,
Although his nest's deep in the glen;
Sae, though my withered hopes are low,
They maybe yet will rise again!
The sun behind the cloud does shine,
Although his face we dinna see;
Sae my dear lad may yet prove kind,
Although it a' seems dark to me!
Although his nest's deep in the glen;
Sae, though my withered hopes are low,
They maybe yet will rise again!
The sun behind the cloud does shine,
Although his face we dinna see;
Sae my dear lad may yet prove kind,
Although it a' seems dark to me!
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