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22 TONE-POETRY OF ROBERT BURNS |
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No. 23. 'Twas even—the dewy fields were green.
Tune : Ettrick Banks Orpheus Cakdonius, 1733, No. 45. |
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'Twas even—the dewy fields were green, On every blade the pearls hang,
The zephyr wanton'd round the bean, And bore its fragrant sweets alang; J' In ev'ry glen the mavis sang,
All Nature list'ning seem'd the while, Except where greenwood echoes rang
Amang the braes o' Eallochmyle.
With careless step I onward stray'd, My heart rejoic'd in Nature's joy,
When, musing in a lonely glade, A maiden fair I chanced to spy : Her look was like the morning's eye,
Her air like Nature's vernal smile; Perfection whisper'd, passing by:—
' Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!' |
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