YE ken whaur yon wee burnie, love, Rins roarin' to the sea, And tumbles o'er its rocky bed, Like spirit wild and free. The mellow mavis tunes his lay, The blackbird swells his note, And little robin sweetly sings Within the woody grot. Then meet me love, by a' unseen, Beside yon mossy den; Oh, meet me love, at dewy eve, In Morag's Fairy Glen. Come when the sun, in robes of gold, Sinks o'er you hills to rest, And fragrance floating in the breeze Comes frae the dewy west; And I will pu' a garland gay, To deck thy brow sae fair; For many a woodbine cover'd glade, And sweet wild flow'r is there. There's music in the wild cascade, There's love among the trees; There's beauty in ilk bank and brae, An' balm upon the breeze. There's a' of nature and of art, That maistly weel could be; An' O, my love, when thou art there, There's bliss in store for me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LACEDEMONIAN INSTRUCTION by WILLIAM BLAKE NAPEOLON'S FAREWELL; FROM THE FRENCH by GEORGE GORDON BYRON CLANCY OF THE MOUNTED POLICE by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE COMPOSED BY THE SIDE OF GRASMERE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH RUTH by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER |