craigieburn wood
weet fa's the eve ieburn,
and blythe awakes the morrow
ut a' the pride o' spring's retur
yield me nocht but sorrow.
i see the flowers and spreading trees,
i hear the wild birds singing
ut what a weary wight please,
and care his bosing!
fain, fain would i my griefs impart,
yet dare na for yer
ut secret love will break my heart,
if i ceal it langer.
if thou refuse to pity me,
if thou shalt love another,
when yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
around my grave they'll wither.
versicles of 1795
本章已阅读完毕(请点击下一章继续阅读!)