My love she's but a lassie, by the author of 'Queenie'.

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Сторінка 111 - Tell me, where is fancy * bred, Or in the heart, or in the head ? How begot, how nourished ? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies : Let us all ring fancy's knell ; I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
Сторінка 199 - No spirit feels waste, Not a muscle is stopped in its playing nor sinew unbraced. Oh, the wild joys of living! the leaping from rock up to rock, The strong rending of boughs from the fir-tree, the cool silver shock Of the plunge in a pool's living water, the hunt of the bear, And the sultriness showing the lion is couched in his lair.
Сторінка 251 - A sweet attractive kind of grace ; A full assurance given by looks ; Continual comfort in a face, The lineaments of Gospel books — I trow that count'nance cannot lye, Whose thoughts are legible in the eye.
Сторінка 217 - bide my time," But my heart will leap at a scene like this And I half renew my prime. Play on ! Play on ! I am with you there, In the midst of your merry ring ; I can feel the thrill of the daring jump, And the rush of the breathless swing.
Сторінка 202 - Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry. But my love's heart grown cauld to me. When we came in by Glasgow town. We were a comely sight to see; My love was clad in the black velvet, And I mysel in cramasie.
Сторінка 137 - I WEIGH not fortune's frown or smile; I joy not much in earthly joys; I seek not state, I seek not style; I am not fond of fancy's toys. I rest so pleased with what I have, I wish no more, no more I crave.
Сторінка 217 - bide my time: " But my heart will leap at a scene like this, And I half renew my prime. Play on, play on ; I am with you there, In the midst of your merry ring: I can feel the thrill of the daring jump, And the rush of the breathless swing. I hide with you in the fragrant hay, And I whoop the smothered call, And my feet slip up on the seedy floor, And I care not for the fall.
Сторінка 153 - That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair Waits me there In the turret whence the charioteers caught soul For the goal, When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb Till I come. But he looked upon the city, every side, Far and wide, All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades...
Сторінка 9 - I gallop'd on my palfrey white as milk, My robe was of the .sea-green woof, my serk was of the silk; My hair was golden yellow, and it floated to my shoe, My eyes were like two harebells bathed in little drops of dew; My palfrey, never stopping, made a music sweetly blent With the leaves of autumn dropping all around me as I went; And I heard the bells, grown fainter, far behind me peal and play, Fainter, fainter, fainter, fainter, till they...

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