Poem of the day

Highland Mary
by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
⁠   The castle o’ Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flow’rs,
⁠   Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
⁠   And there the langest tarry!
For there I took the last fareweel
⁠   O’ my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom’d the gay green birk,
⁠   How rich the hawthorn’s blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade,
⁠   I clasp’d 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.

Wi’ monie a vow, and lock’d embrace,
⁠   Our parting was fu’ tender;
And pledging aft to meet again,
⁠   We tore ourselves asunder:
But, oh! fell death’s untimely frost,
⁠   That nipt my flower so early!
Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay,
⁠   That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now those rosy lips
⁠   I aft ha’e kiss’d sae fondly!
And clos’d for aye the sparkling glance
⁠   That dwelt on me sae kindly;
And mouldering now in silent dust,
⁠   That heart that lo’ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom’s core
⁠   Shall live my Highland Mary.

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