The Hawthorn Tree.
[Written by the Rev. W. Hetherington, A. M., of Torphichen.—Tune, "There grows a bonnie Brier Bush."]
O sweet are the blossoms o' the hawthorn tree,
The bonnie milky blossoms o' the hawthorn tree.
When the saft wastlin' wind, as it wanders ower the lea,
Comes laden wi' the breath o' the hawthorn tree.
Lovely is the rose in the dewy month o' June,
And the lily gently bending beneath the sunny noon;
But the dewy rose, nor lily fair, is half sae sweet to me,
As the bonnie milky blossoms o' the hawthorn tree.
O, blythe at fair and market fu' aften ha'e I been,
And wi' a crony frank and leal some happy hours I've seen;
But the blythest hours I e'er enjoy'd were shar'd, my love, wi' thee,
In the gloamin', 'neath the bonnie bonnie hawthorn tree.
Sweetly sang the blackbird, low in the woody glen,
And fragrance sweet spread on the gale, licht ower the dewy plain;
But thy saft voice and sighing breath were sweeter far to me,
While whispering o' love beneath the hawthorn tree.
Auld time may wave his dusky wing, and chance may cast his die,
And the rainbow-hues o' flattering hope may darken in the sky,
Gay summer pass, and winter stalk stern ower the frozen lea,
Nor leaf nor milky blossom deck the hawthorn tree;
But still maun be the pulse that wakes this glowing heart of mine,
For me nae mair the spring maun bud, nor summer blossoms shine,
And low maun be my hame, sweet maid, ere I be false to thee,
Or forget the vows I breathed beneath the hawthorn tree.