o were my love yon lilac fair

    air—“hughie graham.”

    o were my love yon lilac fair,

    wi' purple blossoms to the spring,

    and i, a bird to shelter there,

    when wearied on my little wing!

    how i wad mourn when it was torn

    by autumn wild, and winter rude!

    but i wad sing on wanton wing,

    when youthfu' may its bloom renew'd.

    o gin my love were yon red rose,

    that grows upon the castle wa';

    and i myself a drap o' dew,

    into her bonie breast to fa'!

    o there, beyond expression blest,

    i'd feast on beauty a' the night;

    seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,

    till fley'd awa by phoebus' light!