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, My love! Sir W. Scott. And adieu for evermore." 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, 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. LULLABY. II LULLABY. SWEET and low, sweet and low, Over the rolling waters go, While my my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. Alfred Tennyson. |