Now wat ye wha I met yestreen, Coming down the street, my jo? My mistress, in her tartan screen, Fou bonny, braw, and sweet, my jo. "My dear," quoth I, "thanks to the night, That never wished a lover ill, Since ye're out of your mither's sight, Lets tak a walk up to the Hill. "O Katy! wiltu gang wi' me, And leave the dinsome town a while? The blossom's sprouting frae the tree, And a' the simmer's gawn to smile. The mavis, nightingale, and lark, -- The bleating lambs and whistling hind, -- In ilka dale, green, shaw and park, Will nourish health, and glad ye'r mind. "Soon as the clear goodman of day Bends his morning draught of dew, We'll gae to some burnside and play, And gather flowers to busk ye'r brow. We'll pou the daisies on the green, The lucken gowans frae the bog; Between hands now and then we'll lean, And sport upo' the velvet fog. "There's up into a pleasant glen, A wee piece frae my father's tower, A canny, saft, and flowery den Which circling birks has formed a bower: Whene'er the sun grows high and warm, We'll to the cawler shade remove; There will I lock thee in mine arms, And love and kiss, and kiss and love." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON OVER THE HILL TO THE POOR-HOUSE by WILLIAM MCKENDREE CARLETON THE OLD MILL by THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH TO HIS WINDING-SHEET by ROBERT HERRICK SONGS OF TRAVEL: 1. THE VAGABOND by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |