THE BONNIE LASS.
SONG XVIII.
1
Green rise Dalgoner hills, o'er the low valley flow'ring,
Unclosing bright the buds when the summer cloud is show'ring;
Fair bloom the fruit-tree tops, where the birds are paramouring,
Beside them lives the bonnie lass whom I am adoring.
2
Many lordly pilgrims at her fair feet are bowing,
Many a heart subduing pang they maun thole whilst suing;
Far distant maun I stand with my peasant wooing,
She is an anointed flow'r, not for my pouing.
3
Were I but a cowslip, my gold tops unsealing,
By her fair forehead kiss'd, when to God she is kneeling;
Rich dew from her eyes for to fall in my blossom,
That sun ne'er arose that would drie't on my bosom.
