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Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume II/A Secret

For other versions of this work, see A Secret.


MY laddie 's a' the world to me!
'T is to himself I owe it
That I can never more gae free;
But, ah!—he must not know it!

When from my side he roams awa',
I scarce believe I'm living;
But when he's here—my laddie!—ah,
I die for want of giving!

Why must I think upon his smile?—
His eyes o'er bright and bonny?—
His gladness that doth sae beguile
It robs my heart of ony?

Were I a lad, and he a maid,
I would na be sae winning;
To wound too deep I'd be afraid,
And deem such sweetness sinning!