Classic Poem

They told me thou hadst faithless grown—
That gowd had wiled thy love frae me;
But my fond heart was constant still,
An' thought that false ye couldna be;
It thought that truth and constancy
Within thy bosom dwellers were—
My love nae ill of thee could think:
And art thou then sae fause an' fair?

My weary feet ha'e wander'd far,
That I might gaze upon thy brow—
That I might sit wi' thee again
Where mountain birnies-onward row.
An' hath it come to this? But now
Ye pass'd me wi' a heedless air:
An' can it be that I ha'e lo'ed
A thing sae very fause an' fair?

An' hast thou then forgot the time
When bairnies, we thegither ran
Upon the wild blae-berrie braes,
Where summer's breath the birks did fan?—
Hast thou forgot the lilies wan,
Wi' which I often decked your hair?
An' how I watched your infant sleep?—
And art thou then sae fause an' fair?

Your plighted vows are broken a'—
The maiden-vows ye gave to me;
Ye ha'e forgot the hazel glen—
Ye ha'e forgot the trystin' tree—
Where under heaven's open e'e,
Ye listen'd to my young heart's prayer.
How could ye, lass, beguile me sae?
How could ye prove sae fause an' fair?

I see thee cast thy sun-like smiles
O'er yon fond heart that doats on thine:—
May joy aye dwell wi' him an' thee,
Though, lassie, thou hast broken mine.
Yet, ere thy love I a' resign—
The sight o' thee for evermair—
Wi' tearfu' e'e I speer if ane
Can live so very fause and fair?