Classic Poem

S HE'S gane to dwall in Heaven, my lassie!
She's gane to dwall in Heaven:
Ye're owre pure, quo' the voice o' God,
For dwallin' out o' Heaven!

O what'll she do in Heaven, my lassie?
O what'll she do in Heaven?
She'll mix her ain thochts wi' angels' sangs,
An' mak them mair meet for Heaven.

She was beloved by a', my lassie:
She was beloved by a'.
But an angel fell in love wi' her,
An' took her frae us a'.

Low there thou lies, my lassie!
Low there thou lies!
A bonnier form ne'er went to the yird,
Nor frae it will arise.

Fu' soon I'll follow thee, my lassie:
Fu' soon I'll follow thee.
Thou's left me naught to covet ahin',
But took gudeness' sel' wi' thee.

I looked on thy death-cauld face, my lassie;
I looked on thy death-cauld face:
Thou seemed a lily new cut i' the bud,
An' fadin' in its place.

I looked on thy death-shut eye, my lassie:
I looked on thy death-shut eye;
An' a lovelier light in the brow o' Heaven
Fell Time shall ne'er destroy.

Thy lips were ruddy an' calm, my lassie:
Thy lips were ruddy an' calm;
But gane was the holy breath o' Heaven
To sing the evening psalm.

There's naught but dust now mine, lassie:
There's naught but dust now mine.
My soul's wi' thee i' the cauld grave,
An' why should I stay ahin'?