Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/600

 And mouldering now in silent dust That heart that lo'ed me dearly! But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary.

502. O were my Love yon Lilac fair

O were my Love yon lilac fair, Wi' purple blossoms to the spring, And I a bird to shelter there, When wearied on my little wing; How I wad mourn when it was torn By autumn wild and winter rude! But I wad sing on wanton wing When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.

O gin my Love were yon red rose That grows upon the castle wa', And I mysel a drap o' dew, Into her bonnie breast to fa'; O there, beyond expression blest, I'd feast on beauty a' the night; Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest, Till fley'd awa' by Phœbus' light.

503. A Red, Red Rose

O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June: O my Luve's like the melodie That's sweetly play'd in tune!