Неизвестный автор ( Anonymous)

On the Banks of the Dee

THE MOON had climbed the highest hill
  That rises o’er the banks of Dee,
And from her farthest summit poured
  Her silver light o’er tower and tree,

When Mary laid her down to sleep,
  Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea,
And soft and low a voice she heard,
  Saying, “Mary, weep no more for me.”

She from her pillow gently raised
  Her head, to see who there might be;
She saw young Sandy shivering stand,
  With pallid cheek and hollow ee.

“O Mary dear, cold is my clay;
  It lies beneath the stormy sea;
The storm is past, and I ’m at rest;
  So, Mary, weep no more for me.”

Loud crew the cock; the vision fled;
  No more young Sandy could she see;
But soft a parting whisper said,
  “Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.”

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