Classic Poem

Ae modest, winsome, little flower
Within an humble garden grew;
It cheered a lonely woman's hame—
But cauld decay the flowers did pu'.
My orphan bairn, my only ane,
Ran round her widow'd mother's knee,
And sleepit on her mother's breast
Yet she is reft awa' frae me!

Fu' meek and gentle was her face,
And sweeter far my lassie's heart
She wasna made for care or toil—
Her saft, laigh voice, has made me start:
She was my last; but pale she grew—
Pale as the summer's fading day:
I grat in secret; for I saw
My lily fading fast away;

She couldna sleep when winds were bauld,
And frost was hard upon the yird;
She couldna die till spring came green,
And singing was each happy bird.
When flowers were busking everywhere,
And blackbirds sang in dean and shaw,
Like the last breath of even's wind
My lily faded fast awa'!

And then they tried to comfort me,
And hard and bitter words they spake,
And said it was a sinfu' thing
To greet and mane for lily's sake.
I greet not now—this is her grave—
Earth has ae pleasure yet for me;
For I can sleep, and I can dream
That lily's come again to me.