To Isabel.
[Francis Bennoch.]
Oh, were I as I ance ha'e been,
An' ye as ye are now,
I'd fainly fauld ye in my arms,
An' kiss your bonnie brow!
I'd kiss your bricht and bonnie brow,
An' drink life frae your e'en;
But, oh, this canna be, for now
I'm no' asl ha'e been!
Your life is like the living sun,
That gi'es life to the plain;
Though clouds awhile may dim his smile,
He'll brighter beam again.
I wouldna be the cloud that comes
Atween your love an' ye;
Your life's sweet light—the light o' lo'e,
Lo'e glentin' frae the e'e.
Wi' brother's lo'e I'll lo'e ye still
Nor seek your heart to win;
For less to think, an' mair to do,
In me wad be a sin:
But there can be nae sin, sweet lass,
In praying, while awa',
That joys frae ye may never pass,
But blessings on ye fa'!