John Lapraik (1727–1807)

WHEN I upon thy bosom lean,

And fondly clasp thee a’ my ain,

I glory in the sacred ties

That made us ane, wha ance were twain.

A mutual flame inspires us baith—

The tender look, the melting kiss;

Even years shall ne’er destroy our love,

But only gi’e us change o’ bliss.

Ha’e I a wish? it’s a’ for thee,

I ken thy wish is me to please;

Our moments pass sae smooth away

That numbers on us look and gaze.

Weel pleased, they see our happy days,

Nor envy’s sel’ finds aught to blame;

And aye when weary cares arise,

Thy bosom still shall be my hame.

I’ll lay me there and tak’ my rest;

And if that aught disturb my dear,

I’ll bid her laugh her cares away,

And beg her not to drap a tear.

Ha’e I a joy? it’s a’ her ain.

United still her heart and mine;

They’re like the woodbine round the tree,

That’s twined till death shall them disjoin.