Yarrow
Alexander
Anderson
Anderson, Alexander
Metadata research and editing
DVPP Project Team
Fralick
Kaitlyn
University of Victoria Digital Victorian Periodical Poetry Project
Victoria, BC, Canada
In the public domain
Good Words
21
752
The simmer day was sweet an’ lang,
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Yarrow
.
The simmer day was sweet an’ lang,
It had nae thocht o’ sorrow,
As my true love and I stood on
The bonnie banks o’ Yarrow.
I took her han’ in mine, an’ said
“ Noo smile, my winsome marrow ;
The next time that we come again
You’ll be my bride on Yarrow.”
A tear stood in her sweet blue ee,
An’ sair she sigh’d in sorrow,
“ I dinna like the sugh that rins
Alang your bonnie Yarrow.
“ It soun’s like some auld dirge o’ wae,
It chills my bosom thorough,
An’ it makes me creep close to your side ;
Oh, I dinna like your Yarrow.
“ For aye I think on the wa an’ dule
That auld, auld sang brings o’er me ;
An’ aye I se that bluidy fecht,
An’ the deid, deid men afore me.”
I clasp’d my true love in my arms,
I kiss’d her sweet lips thorough,
Her breast lay saft against my ain,
On the bonnie banks o’ Yarrow.
“ A tear is in your sweet blue ee,
A tear that speaks o’ sadness.
Noo what should dim its happy hue,
This simmer day o’ gladness ?
“ The Yarrow rins fu’ fosh an’ sweet,
The licht shines bricht an’ clearly,
An’ why should ae sad thocht be ours,
We wha lo’e ither dearly ?
“ The Yarrow rins, an’ as it rins
Nae sadness can it borrow
Frae that auld sang that’s far awa’,
When I’m wi’ thee on Yarrow.”
I pu’d a daisy at my feet,
A daisy sweet an’ bonnie,
I put it in my true love’s breast,
For she was fair as ony.
But aye she sigh’d, an’ aye she said,
“ I fear me for the morrow.
Oh, tak’ awa’ your bonnie flower,
For see, it grew on Yarrow.
“ The bluid still dyes its crimson tips,
It speaks o’ dule an’ sadness,
An’ the deid that lay on the gowany brae,
An’ woman’s wailing madness.”
I took the daisy frae her breast,
I flung it into Yarrow,
An’ doon the stream wi’ heavy heart
I cam’ wi’ my sweet marrow.
O simmer months, hoo swift ye flew,
Wi’ a’ your bloom an’ blossom !
O death, hoo waefu’ was thy touch
That took her to thy bosom !
For my true love, sae sweet an’ fair,
Lies in her grave sae narrow,
An’ in my heart is that eerie moan
She heard that day in Yarrow.
Alexander Anderson
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