Page:Black-bird.pdf/14

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When a’ the lave gae to their bed,
 I wander dowie up the glen;
I sit me down, and greet my fill,
 And ay I wish him back again.

    O for him, &c.

 

 

The Sky-Lark.

Hark, hark the Sky-Lark singing,
As the early clouds are bringing
 Fragrance on their wings!
Still, still on high he’s soaring,
Thro’ the liquid haze exploring,
 Fainter now he sings;
Where the purple dawn is breaking,
 Fast approaching morning’s ray;
From his wings the dew he’s shaking,
 As he joyful hails the day!
While echo from his slumbers waking,
  Imitates his lay.

See, see the ruddy morning,
With his blushing locks adorning
 Mountain, wood and vale;
Clear, clear the dew-drops glancing,
As the rising Sun’s advancing
 O’er the eastern hill.
Now the distant summit's clearing,
 As the vapours steal their way;