Hugh MacDonald

The Lass o’ Colinslee

DOWN the dark brow o’ Gleniffer
  Gloamin’s dusky shadows fa’;
Wak’nin’ stars noo faintly glimmer,—
  Angel lichts o’er heaven’s blue wa’;
Fauldin’ flowers their fragrance breathin’,
  Woodlan’ birds wi’ lingering glee
Seem to woo thee forth to wander,
  Lovely lass o’ Colinslee.

Down yon glen, whaur jinks the burnie
  Blithely roun’ the hazel knowe,
Smiles a neuk whaur gems o’ sweetness,
  Simmer’s brichtest treasures grow;
Crawflowers, daisies, violets mingle
  ’Neath the blushin’ wild rose-tree,—
Emblems o’ thy peerless beauty,
  Lovely lass o’ Colinslee.

Through the sweet green birks o’ Thornlie
  Rustlin’ zephyrs softly play;
Frae his leafy bower the mavis
  Sings to rest the wearie day.
Saft as e’enin’s dewy zephyrs,
  Blithe as day’s sweet lullaby,
Is thy witchin’ voice o’ gladness,
  Lovely lass o’ Colinslee.

Let ambition seek for pleasure,
  Scalin’ glory’s giddy steep;
Av’rice to his worshipped treasure,
  Through the mire of meanness creep;
Purer joy his hame shall brichten,
  Lowly though the bield may be,
On whom thy ee of love shall lichten,
  Peerless flower o’ Colinslee.