O W M L Y L F（1 / 1）

o were y love yon lic fair

air—“hughie graha”

o were y love yon lic fair,

wi&039; purple bloss to the sprg,

and i, a bird to shelter there,

when wearied on y little g!

how i wad ourn when it was torn

by autun wild, and ter rude!

but i wad sg on wanton g,

when youthfu&039; ay its bloo renew&039;d

o g y love were yon red rose,

that grows upon the castle wa&039;;

and i yself a drap o&039; dew,

to her bonie breast to fa&039;!

o there, beyond expression blest,

i&039;d feast on beauty a&039; the night;

seal&039;d on her silk-saft faulds to rest,

till fley&039;d awa by phoeb&039; light!