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o were my love yon lilac fair
air—“hughie graham.”
o were my love yon lilac fair,
wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
and i, a bird to shelter there,
when wearied on my little wing!
how i wad mourn when it was torn
by autumn wild, and winter rude!
but i wad sing on wanton wing,
when youthfu' may its bloom renew'd.
o gin my love were yon red rose,
that grows upon the castle wa';
and i myself a drap o' dew,
into her bonie breast to fa'!
o there, beyond expression blest,
i'd feast on beauty a' the night;
seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
till fley'd awa by phoebus' light!