Poem by Hugh MacDonald

The Lassie o’ Carmyle

’T WAS on a bonnie simmer morn,
  The fields were wet wi’ dew,
And Clutha’s banks were clad wi’ flowers
  Of fairest form and hue;
The wild birds sang their sweetest notes,
  Blithe Phœbus ceased to smile,
As wandering forth I chanced to meet
  The lassie o’ Carmyle.

Her glowing cheek outrivalled far
  The rosebud’s sweetest hue;
Her hair was like the raven’s wing,
  Her eyes a lovely blue.
O’ercome with love and sweet surprise,
  Entranced I stood awhile,
Then fondly clasped, in warm embrace,
  The lassie o’ Carmyle.

Yon sweet wee gowan on the bank
  Wi’ her could ne’er compare;
The primrose pale, the violet’s blue,
  Were ne’er so sweet and fair.	 
I told my love wi’ artless tongue,
  Wi’ heart unstained by guile;
She blushed, she smiled, but noo she ’s mine,
  The lassie o’ Carmyle.

Unheeded now, ambition scales
  The slippery hill of fame;
Unenvied now, pale avarice gains
  Blind fortune’s fickle game:
For what are rank or fame to me
  Compared wi’ her sweet smile?	 
My heart’s first treasure still shall be
  The lassie o’ Carmyle.

1. My Ain Hearthstane
2. The Lass o’ Colinslee
3. Bonnie Greenlaw

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