The Hundred Best English Poems | Page 8

green,
There's not a bonie
bird that sings,
But minds me o' my Jean.
11. John Anderson my Jo.
I.
John Anderson my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your
locks were like the raven,
Your bonie brow was brent;
But now
your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snaw,
But blessings
on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my jo!
II.

John Anderson my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither,
And
monie a cantie day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither;
Now we maun
totter down, John,
And hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither
at the foot,
John Anderson my jo!
12. Ae Fond Kiss.
I.
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae farewell, and then forever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans
I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the
star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me,

Dark despair around benights me.
II.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy:
Naething could resist my Nancy!

But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had
we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never
met--or never parted--
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
III.
Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and
dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, Enjoyment, Love,
and Pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae farewell, alas,
for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs
and groans I'll wage thee.
13. Ye Flowery Banks.
I.
Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair?
How
can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care?

II.
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings upon the bough:

Thou minds me o' the happy days
When my fause Luve was true!
III.
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings beside thy mate:

For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o' my fate!
IV.
Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon
To see the woodbine twine,
And ilka
bird sang o' its luve,
And sae did I o' mine.
V.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
Frae aff its thorny tree,
And my
fause luver staw my rose,
But left the thorn wi' me.
14. A Red, Red Rose.
I.
O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O,
my luve is like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
II.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will
luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
III.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!

And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

IV.
And fare the weel, my only luve,
And fare the weel a while!
And I
will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!
15. Mary Morison.
I.
O Mary, at thy window be!
It is the wish'd, the trysted hour.
Those
smiles and glances let me see,
That make the miser's treasure poor.

How blythely wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,

Could I the rich reward secure--
The lovely Mary Morison!
II.
Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro' the
lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,
I sat, but neither heard
or saw:
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of
a' the town,
I sigh'd and said amang them a':--
"Ye are na Mary
Morison!"
III.
O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?

Or canst thou break that heart of his
Whase only faut is loving thee?

If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown:
A
thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.
Henderson and Henley's Text.

LORD BYRON.
16. She Walks in Beauty.

I.
She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry
skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and
her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to
gaudy day denies.
II.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless
grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her
face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear
their dwelling-place.
III.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in
goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose
love is innocent!
17. Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom.
I.
Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no
ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the
earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:
II.
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping
head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream,
And lingering
pause and lightly tread;
Fond wretch! as if her step disturbed the
dead!
III.

Away! we know that tears are vain,
That Death nor heeds nor hears
distress:
Will this unteach us to complain?
Or make one