Fair

  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!