 | Poems |  |
320
BALLAD.
O that I were lying still in the grave cold and deep!
O waking it is weary, and I fain, fain would sleep;
I fain, fain would slumber, and fain would have dreams
That true, true is friendship, and love all it seems.
O waking it is weary, and I fain, fain would sleep;
I fain, fain would slumber, and fain would have dreams
That true, true is friendship, and love all it seems.
O false is the sea-wind, and false, false the sea,
And false, false the friend, wind and wave brought to me.
O had he but seen Scotland's cliffs never more,
Or I never welcomed his false face to shore!
And false, false the friend, wind and wave brought to me.
O had he but seen Scotland's cliffs never more,
Or I never welcomed his false face to shore!
O bonny is the red rose, the red rose on the tree,
And bonny was one sweet face, one glad face to me,
But now sick I lie, sick to see it in vain,
And it's only in heaven I shall meet it again.
And bonny was one sweet face, one glad face to me,
But now sick I lie, sick to see it in vain,
And it's only in heaven I shall meet it again.
O weary's the world! O how dear, O how dear
Was that fair gentle face I shall see no more here;
And how sweet was the voice here I listen for still,
Though a word from those red lips my worn heart would kill.
Was that fair gentle face I shall see no more here;
And how sweet was the voice here I listen for still,
Though a word from those red lips my worn heart would kill.
Accursed be the wind and wave, and cursed be the ship,
That brought to her young ears a word from his lip!
May its dark timbers grind and break upon a cruel shore,
That its false hammocks bring men such black freights no more.
That brought to her young ears a word from his lip!
May its dark timbers grind and break upon a cruel shore,
That its false hammocks bring men such black freights no more.
My curse on the false heart wherever it may be,
The cruel, cruel false heart that wiled her love from me;
But blessings, blessings on her wherever she may be,
For, false or true, to me she's dear—she's dear, dear to me.
The cruel, cruel false heart that wiled her love from me;
But blessings, blessings on her wherever she may be,
For, false or true, to me she's dear—she's dear, dear to me.
O love, it can cherish and love can stab and kill;
O happy was my heart once, but now it would be still;
It now would be still in the grave dark and deep;
O death give me rest, for I fain, fain would sleep!
O happy was my heart once, but now it would be still;
It now would be still in the grave dark and deep;
O death give me rest, for I fain, fain would sleep!
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