7
Round the sylvan fairy nooks,
Feather’d breckans fringe the rocks,
’Neath the brae the burnie jouks,
And ilka thing is cheery, O.
Trees may bud, and birds may sing,
Flowers may bloom, and verdure spring,
Joy to me they canna bring,
Unless wi’ thee, my dearie, O.
MY HEART AND LUTE.
I give thee all, I can no more,
Though poor the off’ring be;
My heart and lute are all the store
That I can bring to thee.
A lute whose gentle soul reveals
The soul of love full well;
And, better far, a heart that feels
Much more than lute can tell.
I give thee all, &c.
Though love and song may fail, alas!
To keep life’s clouds away,
At least ’twill make them lighter pass,
Or gild them if they stay.
If ever care his discord flings
O’er life’s enchanted strain,
Let love but gently touch the strings,
’Twill all be sweet again.
I give thee all, &c.
