Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.
Robert Gilfillan 1798–1850’T is Sair to Dream
’T
That waking we sall never see;
Yet, oh! how kindly was the smile
My laddie in my sleep gave me!
I thought we sat beside the burn
That wimples down the flowery glen,
Where, in our early days o’ love,
We met that ne’er sall meet again!
And gladden’d, wi’ his parting ray,
The woodland wild and valley green,
Fast fading into gloamin’ grey.
He talk’d of days o’ future joy,
And yet my heart was haflins sair,
For when his eye it beam’d on me,
A withering death-like glance was there!
That life was young and love was free,
For o’er our heads the mavis sang,
And hameward hied the janty bee!
We pledged our love and plighted troth,
But cauld, cauld was the kiss he gave,
When starting from my dream, I found
His troth was plighted to the grave!
And nought would do but silent mourn,
Were ’t no for dreams that should na come,
To whisper back my love’s return;
’T is sair to dream o’ them we like,
That waking we sall never see;
Yet, oh! how kindly was the smile
My laddie in my sleep gave me!