C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Highland Mary
By Robert Burns (1759–1796)
Y
The castle o’ Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There Simmer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel
O’ my sweet Highland Mary.
How rich the hawthorn’s blossom!
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasped 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
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Our parting was fu’ tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursel’s asunder;
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!
I aft hae kissed so fondly!
And closed for aye the sparkling glance,
That dwelt on me sae kindly;
And moldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo’ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom’s core
Shall live my Highland Mary.