The poetical works of John Nicholson ... Carefully edited from the original editions, with additional notes and a sketch of his life and writings. By W. G. Hird |
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LOVE SANS REASON. |
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 | The poetical works of John Nicholson |  |
LOVE SANS REASON.
Wild's the night, my love, my Mary!
But I promised thee to meet;
Winds and rain they sound so dreary,
Yet thou list'nest for my feet!
But I promised thee to meet;
Winds and rain they sound so dreary,
Yet thou list'nest for my feet!
Dark the woods which lie between us,
High the rocks I have to pass,
Where the nymphs and swains have seen us,
Each one happy with his lass.
High the rocks I have to pass,
Where the nymphs and swains have seen us,
Each one happy with his lass.
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Frail's the plank across the river,
Slipp'ry with a night of rain;
One false step—I'm gone for ever,
Ne'er to meet my love again!
Slipp'ry with a night of rain;
One false step—I'm gone for ever,
Ne'er to meet my love again!
Swoll'n the streams of ev'ry fountain,
Trackless is the stormy moor,
Capp'd with mist the lofty mountain
Which I have to wander o'er.
Trackless is the stormy moor,
Capp'd with mist the lofty mountain
Which I have to wander o'er.
Though the winds be cold and dreary,
I have promis'd thee to meet;
If I reach my love, my deary,
'Twill but make our bliss more sweet!
I have promis'd thee to meet;
If I reach my love, my deary,
'Twill but make our bliss more sweet!
What the rocks or misty mountains?
What the darkness of the woods?
What the roaring of the fountains,
Though the rills be swoll'n to floods?
What the darkness of the woods?
What the roaring of the fountains,
Though the rills be swoll'n to floods?
What the trackless moor or river,
Though some demon should appear?
Can those stop me? Oh no,—never!
Three short hours will land me there.
Though some demon should appear?
Can those stop me? Oh no,—never!
Three short hours will land me there.
Then my plaid I will throw o'er me,
Sing of Mary on the way;
Though great dangers lie before me,
Yet I cannot, will not stay.
Sing of Mary on the way;
Though great dangers lie before me,
Yet I cannot, will not stay.
| The poetical works of John Nicholson | |