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For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.

It was only to hear the yorlin sing, And pu' the cress flower round the spring.

The scarlet hypp, and the hind berry, And the nut that hangs frae the hazel tree;

For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.

But lang may her minny look o'er the wa',

And lang may she seek in the greenwood shaw;

Lang the laird of Duneira blame, And lang, lang greet ere Kilmeny come hame.

When many a day had come and fled, When grief grew calm, and hope was dead,

When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been sung,

When the bedesman had prayed, and the dead-bell rung, Late, late in a gloamin, when all was still,

When the fringe was red on the westlin hill,

The wood was sere, the moon in the wane,

The reek of the cot hung over the plain

Like a little wec cloud in the world its lane:

When the ingle glowed with an eiry flame, Late, late in a gloamin, Kilmeny came hame!

"Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?

Long hae we sought baith holt and


As still was her look, and as still was her ee,

As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea,

Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless

By linn, by ford, and greenwood tree; Yet you are halesome and fair to see. Where got you that joup o' the lily sheen?

That bonny snood of the birk sae green?

And these roses, the fairest that ever were seen?

Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?" Kilmeny looked up with a lovely

grace, But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face;


For Kilmeny had been she knew not where,

And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare; Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew,

Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew;

But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung,

And the airs of heaven played round her tongue,

When she spake of the lovely forms she had seen,

And a land where sin had never
A land of love and a land of light,
Withouten sun, or moon, or night;
And lovely beings round were rife,
Who erst had travelled mortal life;
They clasped her waist and her
hands sae fair,

They kissed her cheek and they kemed her hair;

And round came many a blooming fere, Saying, "Bonny Kilmeny, ye're welcome here!

Oh, bonny Kilmeny, free frae stain, If ever you seek the world again— That world of sin, of sorrow, and fear

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