C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
A Scotch Song
By Joanna Baillie (1762–1851)
T
The lavrock’s in the sky,
And collie on my plaid keeps ward,
And time is passing by.
Oh no! sad and slow
And lengthened on the ground,
The shadow of our trysting bush
It wears so slowly round!
My lambs are bleating near,
But still the sound that I lo’e best,
Alack! I canna’ hear.
Oh no! sad and slow,
The shadow lingers still,
And like a lanely ghaist I stand
And croon upon the hill.
The mill wi’ clacking din,
And Lucky scolding frae her door,
To ca’ the bairnies in.
Oh no! sad and slow,
These are na’ sounds for me,
The shadow of our trysting bush,
It creeps so drearily!
A snood of bonny blue,
And promised when our trysting cam’,
To tie it round her brow.
Oh no! sad and slow,
The mark it winna’ pass;
The shadow of that weary thorn
Is tethered on the grass.
She’s past the witch’s knowe,
She’s climbing up the Browny’s brae,
My heart is in a lowe!
Oh no! ’tis no’ so,
’Tis glam’rie I have seen;
The shadow of that hawthorn bush
Will move na’ mair till e’en.
Though conn’d wi’ little skill,
When collie barks I’ll raise my head,
And find her on the hill.
Oh no! sad and slow,
The time will ne’er be gane,
The shadow of the trysting bush
Is fixed like ony stane.