Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/116

 Why weep ye sae for worthlessness, For sorrow and for sin?

I'm weary o' this warld, Willie, And sick wi' a' I see— I canna live as I hae lived, Or be as I should be. But fauld unto your heart, Willie, The heart that still is thine— And kiss ance mair the white, white cheek, Ye said was red langsyne.

A stoun' gaes through my heid, Willie, A sair stoun' through my heart— Oh! baud me up and let me kiss Thy brow ere we twa pairt. Anither, and anither yet!— How fast my life-strings break! Fareweel! fareweel! through yon kirk-yaird Step lichtly for my sake!

The lav'rock in the lift, Willie, That lilts far ower our heid, Will sing the morn as merrilie Abune the clay-cauld deid;