Classic Poem

My breast is press'd to thine, Alice,
My arm is round thee twined;
Thy breath dwells on my lip, Alice,
Like clover-scented wind:
Love glisten's in thy sunny e'e,
And blushes on thy brow;
Earth's heaven is here to thee and me,
For we are happy now!

Thy cheek is warm and saft, Alice,
As the summer laverock's breast;
And peace sleeps in thy soul, Alice,
Like the laverock on its nest!
Sweet lay thy heart aboon my heart,
Fot it is a' thine ain;
That morning love it gi'es to thee,
Which kens nae guile or stain!

Ilk starn in yonder lift, Alice,
Is a love-lighted e'e,
Fill'd fu' o' gladsome tears, Alice,
While watching thee and me.
This twilight hour the thoughts run back,
Like moonlight on the streams,
Till the o'erladen heart grows grit
Wi' all its early dreams!

Langsyne amang the hills, Alice,
Where wave the breckans green,
I wandered by the burn, Alice,
Where fairy feet had been, —
While o'er me hung a vision sweet,
My heart will ne'er forget —
A dream o' summer-twilight times
When flowers wi' dew were wet!

I thought on a' the tales, Alice,
O' woman's love and faith;
Of truth that smiled at fear, Alice,
And love that conquered death;
Affection blessing hearts and homes,
When joy was far awa'
And fear and hate; but love, O love!
Aboon and over a'!

And then I thought wi' me, Alice,
And walked in beauty there —
A being made for love, Alice,
So pure, and good, and fair —
Who shared my soul — my every hour
O' sorrow and o' mirth;
And when that dream was gone, my heart
Was lonely on the earth!

Ay, lonely grew the world, Alice —
A dreary hame to me;
Without a bush or bield, Alice,
Or leafy sheltering tree;
And aye as sough'd life's raging storm,
Wi' keen and eerie blaw,
My soul grew sad, and cold my heart,
I wish'd to be awa'.

But light came o'er my way, Alice,
And life grew joy to me;
The daisy in my path, Alice,
Unclosed its gentle e'e;
Love breath'd in ilka wind that blew,
And ilk birdie's sang;
Wi' sunny thoughts o' summer time
The blithesome heart grew thrang.

My dreams o' youth and love, Alice,
Were a' brought back again;
And hope upraised its head, Alice,
Like the violet after rain:
A sweeter maid was by my side
Than things of dreams can be,
First precious love to her I gave,
And, Alice, thou wert she!

Nae lip can ever speak, Alice,
Nae tongue can ever tell,
The sunless love for thee, Alice,
With which my heart doth swell!
Pure as the thoughts of infants' souls,
And innocent and young;
Sic love was never tauld in sangs,
Sic sangs were never sung!

My hand is on my heart, Alice,
Sae place thy hand in mine;
Now, welcome weal and woe, Alice,
Our love we canna tine.
Ae kiss! let others gather gowd
Frae ilka land and sea;
My treasure is the richest yet,
For, Alice, I hae thee!