 | The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill |  |
6
THE FAREWEEL.
Accuse me not, inconstant fair,
Of being false to thee,
For I was true, would still been so,
Hadst thou been true to me.
But when I knew thy plighted lips
Once to a rival's prest,
Love-smothered independence rose,
And spurned thee from my breast.
Of being false to thee,
For I was true, would still been so,
Hadst thou been true to me.
But when I knew thy plighted lips
Once to a rival's prest,
Love-smothered independence rose,
And spurned thee from my breast.
The fairest flower in Nature's field
Conceals the rankling thorn;
So thou, sweet flower! as false as fair,
This once kind heart hath torn.
'Twas mine to prove the fellest pangs
That slighted love can feel;
'Tis thine to weep that one rash act,
Which bids this long fareweel.
Conceals the rankling thorn;
So thou, sweet flower! as false as fair,
This once kind heart hath torn.
'Twas mine to prove the fellest pangs
That slighted love can feel;
'Tis thine to weep that one rash act,
Which bids this long fareweel.
| The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill | |