Classic Poem

I wish I were a hinny-bee,
That I a'wa' might sing, —
Upo' the buds o' bonnie bower,
When the e'nin' fa's, to hing,
And be bless'd wi' ae look o' a bonnie face
Like the the sun-glint on the fell —
The face o' ane — a precious ane —
Whase name I daurna tell!

I wish I were a breathin' wind,
That I might pree her mou',
An' wander blessed by her side,
The woods an' valleys through;
An' clasp her waist so jimpie sma',
Where grows the muirland bell;
An' pass ae hour o' love wi' her
Whase name I daurna tell.

The laverock loves the simmer lift —
The corncraik clover green —
An' the mither loves her bairnie's face,
Where its father's smile is seen;
The lintie loves the hawthorn hedge —
The blackbird lo'es the dell —
But mair than a' I lo'e the maid
Whase name I daurna tell.

The misty mornin' often brings
A sunny afternoon;
An' March, wi' hands sae sleety cauld,
Leads gladsome May an' June:
An' maybe yet, or a' be done,
I'll happy be mysel',
When she is mine — the precious ane —
Whase name I daurna tell.