Роберт Николь (Robert Nicoll)

The Beloved One

O! the rose is like her ruby lip,
    And the lily like her skin;
And her mouth like a faulded violet,
    Wi' the scented breath within;
And her eon are like yon bonnie flower
    When the dew is in its cup;
As the bee frae it its honey draws,
    I love frae them maun sip.

O! her voice is like yon little bird's
    That sits in the cherry-tree:
For the air o' the sky and the heart o' man
    It fills wi' its melodie.
Her hand is soft as the downy peach
    Upon yon branch that hings;
An' her hair its gloss sae rich has stown
    Frae the bonnie blackbird's wings!

O! her smile is like the sun that shines
    Upon yon fair wa'-flower—
As the bonnie buds this plays among,
    Her face that wanders o'er.
But a love-warm kiss o' her rosy mou'
    Wi' naething can compare,—
Sae meikle o' bliss an' holiness
    The craving heart might sair.

O! the garden-flowers are fair an' pure—
    The rose and the lily too;
An' the wall-flower rich in Nature's wealth—
    An' the peeping violet blue;
O! bonnie as Heaven itsel', an' pure,
    Are the flowers o' ilka kind;
But they ha'ena the womanly purity
    O' my darling Jeanie's mind!