Verse > Anthologies > Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. > Parnassus: An Anthology of Poetry
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Ralph Waldo Emerson, comp. (1803–1882).  Parnassus: An Anthology of Poetry.  1880.
 
The Lily of Nithsdale
By Allan Cunningham (1784–1842)
 
SHE’S gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie,
  She’s gane to dwall in heaven;
Ye’re ower pure, quoth the voice of God,
  For dwalling out of heaven!
 
O what’ll she do in heaven, my lassie?        5
  O what’ll she do in heaven?—
She’ll mix her ain thoughts with angels’ sangs,
  An’ make them mair meet for heaven.
 
Low there thou lies, my lassie,
  Low there thou lies;        10
A bonmer form ne’er went to the yird,
  Nor frae it will arise!
 
Fu’ soon I’ll follow thee, lassie,
  Fu’ soon I’ll follow thee;
Thou left me nought to covet ahin’,        15
  But took gudness’ self wi’ thee.
 
I looked on thy death-cold face, my lassie,
  I looked on thy death-cold face;
Thou seemed a lilie new cut i’ the bud,
  An’ fading in its place.        20
 
I looked on thy death-shut eye, my lassie,
  I looked on thy death-shut eye;
An’ a lovelier light in the brow of heaven
  Fell time shall ne’er destroy.
 
Thy lips were ruddy and calm, my lassie,        25
  Thy lips were ruddy and calm;
But gane was the holy breath of heaven
  To sing the evening psalm.
 
There’s nought but dust now mine, lassie,
  There’s nought but dust now mine;        30
My saul’s wi thee in the cauld grave,
  An’ why should I stay behin’?
 
 
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