Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

JAMIE'S ON THE STORMY SEA.

"Into the depths of thy dreamy eyes peering,

Watching thy lips for some shadowy sign, Trembling in doubt betwixt hoping and fearing, Stands my poor soul and appeals unto thine. Barren as sea-sand is every ambition

Pride proves of clay when its feet are revealed; Only affection brings joy's full fruition—

O love that will triumph! O life that must yield !”

127

EDWIN R. JOHNSON.

Jamie's on the Stormy Sea.

RE the twilight bat was flitting,

ER

In the sunset, at her knitting,
Sang a lonely maiden, sitting
Underneath the threshold tree;
And as daylight died before us,
And the evening star shone o'er us,
Fitful rose her gentle chorus, —
"Jamie's on the stormy sea.”

Curfew bells remotely ringing,
Mingled with her sweet voice singing,
And the last red ray seemed clinging
Lingeringly to tower and tree,
And her evening song ascending,
With the scene and season blending,
Ever had the same low ending,--

"Jamie 's on the stormy sea.

[ocr errors]

"Blow, thou west wind, blandly hover
Round the bark that bears my lover;
Blow and waft him safely over,

To his own dear home and me;

For when night-winds rend the willow,
Sleep forsakes my lonely pillow,
Thinking on the raging billow,-
Jamie's on the stormy sea."

How could I but list, but linger
To the song, and near the singer,
Sweetly wooing heaven to bring her
Jamie from the stormy sea?

And while yet her voice did name me,
Forth I sprang-my heart o'ercame me,-
"Grieve no more, sweet; I am Jamie,
Home returned to love and thee."

ANONYMOUS.

Go, Forget Me.

Go, forget me-why should sorrow

O'er that brow a shadow fling?

Go, forget me—and to-morrow

Brightly smile and sweetly sing. Smile-though I shall not be near thee: Sing-though I shall never hear thee: May thy soul with pleasure shine, Lasting as the gloom of mine.

Like the sun, thy presence glowing,
Clothes the meanest things in light;
And when thou, like him, art going,
Loveliest objects fade in night.
All things looked so bright about thee,
That they nothing seem without thee;
By that pure and lucid mind

Earthly things were too refined.

[blocks in formation]

I'V

Through mony a weary way;

But never, never can forget

The luve o' life's young day!

The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en

May weel be black gin Yule;
But blacker fa' awaits the heart
Where first fond luve grows cule.

O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,

The thochts o' bygane years

Still fling their shadows ower my path,
And blind my een wi' tears:
They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears,
And sair and sick I pine,

As memory idly sumnions up

The blithe blinks o' langsyne.

'T was then we luvit ilk ither weel,

'T was then we twa did part;

Sweet time--sad time! twa bairns at scule,

Twa bairns, and but ae heart!

'Twas then we sat on ae laigh bink,

To leir ilk ither lear;

And tones and looks and smiles were shed, Remembered evermair.

I wonder, Jeanie, aften yet,

When sitting on that bink,

Cheek touchin' cheek, loof locked in loof,
What our wee heads could think.
When baith bent doun ower ae braid page,

Wi' ae buik on our knee,

Thy lips were on thy lesson, but
My lesson was in thee.

O, mind ye how we hung our heads,
How cheeks brent red wi' shame,
Whene'er the scule-weans, laughin', said

We cleeked thegither hame?
And mind ye o' the Saturdays,

(The scule then skail't at noon,) When we ran off to speel the braes,— The broomy braes o' June?

My head rins round and round about—
My heart flows like a sea,

As ane by ane the thochts rush back
O' scule-time and o' thee.

O mornin' life! O mornin' luve!
O lichtsome days and lang,
When hinnied hopes around our hearts
Like simmer blossoms sprang!

O, mind ye, luve, how aft we left
The deavin' dinsome toun,

To wander by the green burnside,
And hear its waters croon ?

JEANIE MORRISON.

The simmer leaves hung ower our heads,

The flowers burst round our feet, And in the gloamin o' the wood The throssil whusslit sweet;

The throssil whusslit in the wood,
The burn sang to the trees-
And we, with Nature's heart in tune,
Concerted harmonies;

And on the knowe abune the burn
For hours thegither sat

In the silentness o' joy, till baith
Wi' very gladness grat.

Ay, ay, dear Jeanie Morrison,
Tears trinkled doun your cheek
Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane
Had ony power to speak!

That was a time, a blessed time,

When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gushed all feelings forth, Unsyllabled-unsung!

I marvel, Jeanie Morrison,
Gin I hae been to thee

As closely twined wi' earliest thochts

As ye hae been to me?

O, tell me gin their music fills

Thine ear as it does mine!

O, say gin e'er your heart grows grit
Wi' dreamings o' langsyne?

I've wandered east, I've wandered west,
I've borne a weary lot;

But in my wanderings, far or near,

Ye never were forgot.

131

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »