Robert Couper (Роберт Купер)

Kinrara

RED gleams the sun on yon hill-tap,
  The dew sits on the gowan;
Deep murmurs through her glens the Spey,
  Around Kinrara rowan.
Where art thou, fairest, kindest lass?
  Alas! wert thou but near me,
Thy gentle soul, thy melting eye,
  Would ever, ever cheer me.

The laverock sings among the clouds,
  The lambs they sport so cheerie,
And I sit weeping by the birk:
  O, where art thou, my dearie?
Aft may I meet the morning dew,
  Lang greet till I be weary;
Thou canna, winna, gentle maid!
  Thou canna be my dearie.

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1185

Последние стихотворения

To English version