Wearie’s Well.
[William Motherwell.]
In a saft simmer gloamin',
In yon dowie dell,
It was there we twa first met
By Wearie's cauld well.
We sat on the brume bank
And looked in the burn,
But sidelang we looked on
Ilk ither in turn.
The corn-craik was chirming
His sad eerie cry,
And the wee stars were dreaming
Their path through the sky.
The burn babbled freely
Its luve to each flower,
But we heard and we saw nought
In that blessed hour.
We heard and we saw nought
Above or around:
We felt that our luve lived,
And loathed idle sound.
I gazed on your sweet face
Till tears fill'd mine e'e,
And they drapt on your wee loof—
A warld's wealth to me!
Now the winter snaw's fa'ing
On bare holm and lea;
And the cauld wind is strippin'
Ilk leaf aff the tree.
But the snaw fa's not faster,
The leaf disna part
Sae sune frae the bough, as
Faith fades in your heart.
Ye've waled out anither
Your bridegroom to be;
But can his heart luve sae
As mine luvit thee?
Ye'll get biggings and mailins,
And monie braw claes,
But they a' winna buy back
The peace o' past days.
Fareweel, and for ever!
My first luve and last;
May thy joys be to come,
Mine live in the past.
In sorrow and sadness,
This hour fa's on me,
But light, as thy love, may
It fleet over thee.