Classic Poem

Mirthful summers come at last
Gone the winter and the blast
And all the chilly days are past
So annoying to my dearey
Sae tak thy gaily coloured shawl
Thats hanging in thy mithers hall
Fra fear a hasty shower should fall
Twill comfort thee and cheer ye

We'll walk about the meadow glen
We'll walk adown the reedy fen
We'll watch the little hopping wren
And talk & ne'er be weary
The sun it glints on berries red
All clustering on leaves make a bed
While wool pack clouds sail over head
While the lark winnows cheery

The Bittern bumps the Pewit screams
The Moor hen patters down the streams
And glittering are the sunny beams
Those scenes we'll seek my deary
Full slowly flaps the heron by
Uttering her lowly cranking cry
The lark is winnowing in the sky
And all the scene looks cheery

Lassie leave thy mithers hall
Take thy bonnet fra the wall
Hurry on thy plaided shawl
Or maybe love will cheat me
Remember love the osier glen
Full far away fra haunts o' men
We met there ance and will agen
There love & truth shall greet thee

Above the bruik the midges play
The Stickleback below
Glides like a nimble shade away
Home flops the weary crow
To neighbouring woods & hedgerow trees
And milkmaids that scarce bruize the grass
With kerchief open to the breeze
Along the pastures pass

Her bosom bare her cap untied
She's like a wilding rose
That grows agen the pasture side
And like the sunset glows
Merriest sounds at close of day
Come fra her cherry lips
The crickets stop their evening lay
As light the maiden trips

The dews are mizzling on her cheek
Like smallest kind of rain
The woodbine with its ruddy streak
Smells half as sweet again
The king cups growing on the green
Spangle like sparks o' fire
And like to blinking stars are seen
As days last shades retire

The swallow tumbles o'er the bush
A moment and is lost
Then through the pasture gateways rush
As though they'd hit the post
Their wings of sooty eve the hue
Like a dark spot he seems
They whisk along through evening dew
Like one o evening dreams

The bramble bushes and sheep tracks
Of milk & water flowers
Their hue is neither white or black
As they bluim in dusky hours
Oh Lucy with thy bonnet on
Were thou but standing here
I would not envy any one
This evetide would be dear