Уильям Уилсон (William Wilson)

The Lily o’ Glenlyon

SWEET is the e’ening’s tear o’ dew
Upon the bending harebell blue,
But sweeter far is she I lo’e,—
        The Lily o’ Glenlyon.

I ’ve kissed wi’ mony a Highland quean,
Wi’ Lowland maids danced on the green,
But nane like her I kissed yestreen,—
        The Lily o’ Glenlyon.

O, thou art sweet as e’ening’s gale
That whispers down the blossomed dale,
An’ soft as lover’s wooing tale,—
        Sweet Lily o’ Glenlyon.

I ’ve seen the rose in lordly bower,
The violet bloom by ruined tower,
But thou art beauty’s peerless flower,—	
        Sweet Lily o’ Glenlyon.

Nae gems thy gouden ringlets braid,
Thy brawest veil ’s the tartan plaid,
My Highland love, my mountain maid,
        My Lily o’ Glenlyon.

Thy rosy cheek, thy deep-blue e’e,
That shot sic deadly glaumerie,
Hath bound my heart for aye to thee,
        Sweet Lily o’ Glenlyon.

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