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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.
Hugh MacDonald's other poems:
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