Page:O will I come.pdf/6



Sweet fa's eve on Craigie-burn, And sweetly wakes the morrow. But a' the pride o' springs return Can yield me nocht but sorrow. I see the flowers and spreading trees, I hear the wild birds singing; But what a weary wight can please, And care his bosom ringing.

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart, Yet darena for your anger, But secret love will break my heart, If I conceal it langer. If thou refuse to pity me, If thou shalt love anither, When yon green leaves fade frae the tree, Around my grave they'll weather.