Mary.
[Daniel Weir.—Tune, "Good night, and joy be wi' you a'."]
How dear to think on former days,
And former scenes I've wander'd o'er;
They well deserve a poet's praise,
In lofty rhyme they ought to soar.
How oft I've wander'd by the Clyde,
When night obscured the landscape near,
To hear its murm'ring waters glide,
And think upon my Mary dear.
And when the moon shot forth her light,
Sweet glimm'ring through the distant trees,
How sweet to pass the peaceful night,
And breathe, serene, the passing breeze.
Though grand these scenes of peace and joy,
'Tis not for them I'd drop the tear;
Remembrance will my heart annoy,
When thinking on my Mary dear.
Far from my friends, far from my home,
I wander on a distant shore;
Far from those scenes I used to roam,
And scenes perhaps I'll tread no more.
My fancy still beholds the Clyde,
Her scenes of grandeur now appear;
What power can e'er my thoughts divide,
From Clyde's fair banks and Mary dear.
No power on earth can change my heart,
Or tear these scenes from out my mind,
And when this world and I shall part,
For them I'll cast a look behind.
Swift fly the time until we meet;
Swift fly away each day and year,
Until my early friends I greet,
And kiss again my Mary dear.