Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XXX. Sweet Sorrow
Highland Mary
By Robert Burns (1759–1796)
 
YE banks and braes and streams around
  The castle o’ Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
  Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,        5
  And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel
  O’ my sweet Highland Mary.
 
How sweetly bloom’d the gay green birk,
  How rich the hawthorn’s blossom,        10
As underneath their fragrant shade
  I clasp’d her to my bosom!
The golden hours on angel wings
  Flew o’er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life        15
  Was my sweet Highland Mary.
 
Wi’ monie a vow and lock’d embrace
  Our parting was fu’ tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
  We tore oursels asunder;        20
But oh! fell Death’s untimely frost,
  That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green ’s the sod, and cauld ’s the clay,
  That wraps my Highland Mary!
 
O pale, pale now, those rosy lips        25
  I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly!
And closed for aye the sparkling glance
  That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mould’ring now in silent dust
  That heart that lo’ed me dearly!        30
But still within my bosom’s core
  Shall live my Highland Mary.
 
 
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