8 LIGHT O' LOVE. LIGHT O' LOVE. “A WEARY lot is thine, fair maid, To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A doublet of the Lincoln green,— No more of me you knew, 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 But, O! fell Death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early! Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, 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. Basms A WISH MINS be a cot beside the hill: A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; The swallow, oft, beneath my shatch Around my ived porch shall spring The village church among the rees 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. |