Classic Poem

D' YE mind o' the lang simmer days, Mary White?
When we gaed to the auld Partick braes, Mary White?
When I pu'd the wild gowans, and wi' a delight
I hung them in strings roun' thy neck, Mary White?

D'ye mind o' the song ye wad raise, Mary White?
The song o' sweet " Ballenden Braes, " Mary White?
It couldna be love, but a nameless delight,
That thrill'd through my bosom, my dear Mary White!

Oh, that was a sweet happy time, Mary White!
I've ne'er had sic moments since syne, Mary White,
When we look'd at ilk ither, and lauch'd wi' delight,
And hardly kent what for, my dear Mary White.

We were young, we were happy, indeed, Mary White;
Noo care's strewn grey hairs on my heid, Mary White;
My hopes hae a' wither'd, wi' sorrowfu' blight,
But still ye are green in my heart, Mary White!

And oh! do ye e'er think on me, Mary White?
Ah! then does the tear blin' your e'e, Mary White?
Or hae ye lang waked frae that spell o' delight,
And left me still dreaming, my dear Mary White?

It's often I think upon thee, Mary White,
For still thou art dear unto me, Mary White;
For a' that this heart has e'er kent o' delight
Was nocht to the moments wi' thee, Mary White!

Do ye 'mang the leevin' still bide, Mary White?
Or hae ye cross'd owre the dark tide, Mary White?
Oh! how this auld heart wad yet loup wi' delight
Could I again see thee, my dear Mary White!