We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, But seas between us braid hae roared, Sin' auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, For auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, Аn! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The breeze is on the sea. But where is County Guy? The village maid steals through the shade Her shepherd's suit to hear; Now reigns o'er earth and sky, And high and low the influence know, But where is County Guy? RIVER SONG. SCOTT. SONG FROM JASON. I KNOW a little garden close And though within it no birds sing, And though no pillared house is there, And though the apple-boughs are bare Of fruit and blossom, would to God Her feet upon the green grass trod, And I beheld them as before. There comes a murmur from the shore, And in the place two fair streams are, Drawn from the purple hills afar, Drawn down unto the restless sea; The hills whose flowers ne'er fed the bee, The shore no ship has ever seen, Still beaten by the billows green, Whose murmur comes unceasingly Unto the place for which I cry. For which I cry both day and night, For which I let slip all delight, That maketh me both deaf and blind, Careless to win, unskilled to find, And quick to lose what all men seek. Yet tottering as I am and weak, Still have I left a little breath To seek within the jaws of death An entrance to that happy place, To seek the unforgotten face Once seen, once kissed, once reft from me Anigh the murmuring of the sea. WILLIAM MORRIS. As a gloriole sign o' grace, Goldilocks, ah fall and flow, Ah! the playtime she has known, Childhood over like a song? O MY LUVE'S LIKE A RED, RED ROSE. O MY luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: O my luve's like the melodie, That's sweetly played in tune. |