OF MRS. HARRIET MILLER DAVIDSON

F ARE-THEE-WEEL , my songbird,
My blessing gang wi' thee,
Gentle be the breezes
That waft thee ower the sea.

'Mang a' so fair and lovely
Thou sweetly sang as mine,
Nought had a grace or beauty
That brighter shone than thine.

I've watched thee in thy childhood,
So fu' o' life and glee,
A bonnie bud o' promise
On a grand old forest tree.

Thy beauty brought a gladness,
A freshness day by day,
Like the first rose that blossoms
On the bosom o' the May.

A freshness aye that made me think
O' sunshine and o' flowers,
O' warbling birds and gushing streams,
And fragrant summer bowers.

Thine eye so kindly beaming
Gave a more beauteous licht
Than ony star that sparkles
In the jewelled croon o' nicht.

And when a thochtfu' matron,
Wi' thy bairnies in thine arms,
A softer flood o' sunlicht
Was haloing thy charms.

A child in sweet simplicity,
A maiden's witchin' wiles,
A woman's noble tenderness,
An angel's loving smiles.

Return again, my songbird,
And warble fu' o' glee,
Come, gladden my auld heart again,
Lang, lang, afore ye dee.

Tho' thou mayst spend in exile
Thy glorious harvest time,
Oh, come and pass thy winter
In thine own native clime.

And tho' youth's passion may be chill,
Thoul't get a welcome hame;
I'll weave a bonnie chaplet
To croon my child of fame.

And I will keep a quiet nook
Within my auld grey breast,
Where thou, my ain dear bairn, mayst sleep,
And nought disturb thy rest.