8 LIGHT O' LOVE. LIGHT O' LOVE. "A WEARY lot is thine, fair maid, To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, A doublet of the Lincoln green,— No more of me you knew, My love! No more of me you knew. "This morn is merry June, I trow, But she shall bloom in winter snow, He turned his charger as he spake, He gave his bridle-reins a shake, Said, "Adieu for evermore, And adieu for evermore." My love! Sir W. Scott. HIGHLAND MARY. 9 HIGHLAND MARY. YE banks and braes and streams around Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last fareweel How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace We tore oursels asunder; But, O! fell Death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early! Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, That wraps my Highland Mary! O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, And closed for aye the sparkling glance But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary. R. Burns. A WISH. MINE be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch Around my ivied porch shall spring The village-church among the trees, Samuel Rogers. SOFT Soft wind, from out the sweet south sliding, Waft thy silver cloud-webs athwart the summer sea; Thin thin threads of mist on dewy fingers twining, Weave a veil of dappled gauze to shade my babe and me. Deep, deep Love, within Thine own abyss abiding, Pour Thyself abroad, O Lord, on earth and air and sea; Worn weary hearts within Thy holy temple hiding, Shield from sorrow, sin, and shame my helpless babe and me. Charles Kingsley. |