I lie me down, and then I think
I try to sleep an hour away
And fancy I'm on some broad brink
In foreign lands so far away
I think of one for loves dear sake
With her neat dress and bonnet on
The very moral in her make
Is bonny Mary Hamilton.


I sit upon the road-side hill
Church folks are going by to prayer
Of goodly ways there comes no Ill
And all have sabath faces there
I looked at one, my face grew pale
My self possession all was gone
I turned around to view the vale
And sighed for Mary Hamilton.


I feared offence, and dare not speak
I praised the flowers — and meant hersel
The sweet-briar bloom excuse did make
The heath-bloom tinkled like a bell
The briar blushed warm and so did she
I wondered what she thought upon
But from that hour I longed to see
The blooming Mary Hamilton.


Her hands were white, her feet were small
Her neck the creamy cloud at e'en
I thought when she was gone away
What could those turning blushes mean
Her features were the pastoral bloom
I told her 'twas the very same
Like evenings blue her two eyes shone
And all her face was in a flame
Thus I loved Mary Hamilton.


We staid, the sun sank in the sea,
And saw the pale moon climb the sky;
And dear as one's own life to me
Was Mary's parting smile and sigh;
I left her with a warm embrace,
And talked of time 'till time was gone,
And told her at that very place
I'd next meet Mary Hamilton.


The rising moon looked on the stream,
New gilding all the sleepy flowers;
The dew fell on the heather bloom,
And made the most delightful hours;
The fern owl churred his evening call,
The chaffer made his evening song —
And dew had sprinkled drops o'er all
When I left Mary Hamilton.
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