Page:Poems, in two volumes (IA poemsintwovolume00word).pdf/45
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"What's Yarrow but a River bare
"That glides the dark hills under?
"There are a thousand such elsewhere
"As worthy of your wonder."
—Strange words they seem'd of slight and scorn;
My True-love sigh'd for sorrow;
And look'd me in the face, to think
I thus could speak of Yarrow!
"That glides the dark hills under?
"There are a thousand such elsewhere
"As worthy of your wonder."
—Strange words they seem'd of slight and scorn;
My True-love sigh'd for sorrow;
And look'd me in the face, to think
I thus could speak of Yarrow!
"Oh! green," said I, "are Yarrow's Holms,
"And sweet is Yarrow flowing!
"Fair hangs the apple frae the rock[1],
"But we will leave it growing.
"O'er hilly path, and open Strath,
We'll wander Scotland thorough;
"But, though so near, we will not turn
"Into the Dale of Yarrow.
"And sweet is Yarrow flowing!
"Fair hangs the apple frae the rock[1],
"But we will leave it growing.
"O'er hilly path, and open Strath,
We'll wander Scotland thorough;
"But, though so near, we will not turn
"Into the Dale of Yarrow.
- ↑ See Hamilton's Ballad as above.