MY LOVE HAS MESHES IN HER HAIR.
SONG I.
1
My love has meshes in her hair,
And witch-locks o'er her arched brows;
Pure and fresh colour'd are her cheeks,
Like crimson on a creamy rose;
Her neck, o'er which her tresses hing,
Is snow beneath a raven's wing.
2
My love is rosie on the lip,
And dear I long to kiss the rose;
A lillie spotless as her breast
Rose never gemm'd with morning dews;
Ne'er saint in adoration more
Of pureness lov'd than I adore.
3
My love's two eyes are bonnie stars,
New waken'd to adorn the skies;
And I will by our tryste thorn sit,
And watch them at their ev'ning rise;
That when they shine on tow'r and tree,
Their heav'nly light may fall on me.
4
O Evening, gray-lock'd and demure,
When bashful lovers come to wooe,
O'er primrose bank and scented grove,
Thou shak'st thy tresses bright with dew;
Say, didst thou dew ere flower or tree,
More lovely or more sweet than she.
5
Bear witness, O thou lover star,
New woke on Criffel's comely hill,
That light'st the lover on his path,
To meet his maid in green wood still;
Thy silver light did never shine,
On love more pure, more fond than mine.
6
Bright on the lark's breast glanced the dew,
Beside us nestling on the lea;
She call'd her mate from golden cloud,
To warble by my love and me;
Nor from her gorlines did she move,
For well she saw our looks were love.
