The Maid I lo'e.
[John Mitchell.—Here first printed.]
O! blithely smiles the moon when the glowring day's awa',
And saft the balmy breeze creeps aroun' the Stanely shaw,
And lightly o'er the moor I trip when night begins to fa'
To meet Gleniffer's fairest flower, the maid I lo'e.
The bonnie bonnie rose, and the lily gemm'd wi' dew,
The crawflower and the pink the gay summer will renew,
But 'mid the winter's cauld mair than summer's flowers I pu'
When I kiss the rosy lips o' her I lo'e.
Her e'e o' bonnie blue wi' the diamond may compare,
Her teeth o' ivory tell the sweets that linger there,
And on her brow sits majesty wreath'd in the raven hair
That gracefully adorns the head o' her I lo'e.
I've heard the lark's clear sang ere the rosy e'e o' day
Had from our smiling vales brushed the shades o' night away,
But sweeter words fell on mine ear than minstrel's sweetest lay
As I gaed owre the moor yestreen wi' her I lo'e.
Ill build a wee wee house, and I'll tak' my lassie hame,
And I will fill't wi' wealth that the gowd we prize will shame
I'll fill't wi' love's endearing joys, all else is but a name,
Unworthy o' the charms that live in her I lo'e.