Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/112

 And we with Nature's heart in tune, Concerted harmonies; And on the knowe abune the burn, For hours thegither sat In the silentness o' joy, till baith Wi' very gladness grat.

Aye, aye, dear Jeanie Morrison, Tears trinkled doun your cheek, Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane Had ony power to speak! That was a time, a blessed time, When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gushed all feelings forth, Unsyllabled—unsung!

I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, Gin I hae been to thee As closely twined wi' earliest thochts, As ye hae been to me? Oh! tell me gin their music fills Thine ear as it does mine; Oh! say gin e'er your heart grows grit Wi' dr earnings o' langsyne?