Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/114



heid is like to rend, Willie, My heart is like to break— I'm wearin' aff my feet, Willie, I'm dyin' for your sake! Oh lay your cheek to mine, Willie, Your hand on my briest-bane— Oh say ye'll think on me, Willie, When I am deid and gane!

It's vain to comfort me, Willie, Sair grief maun hae its will— But let me rest upon your briest, To sab and greet my fill. Let me sit on your knee, Willie, Let me shed by your hair, And look into the face, Willie, I never sail see mair!