Classic Poem

Weep not, my Bride! to be my bride,
Say not that love is o'er,
That joy with maiden-hood has died,
And thou'lt be wooed no more!
I'll love thee, husband like, my bride,
And like a lover woo beside!

The roebuck loves the mountain steep,
The cushat loves the glen,
The eagle loves his craggy keep,
Her russet hedge the wren:
But dearer far I'll love my bride,
Whatever weal or woe betide!

The wild bee loves the heather-bell,
The blossom loves the tree,
The daisy loves the spring-time well,
But not as I love thee.
As I love thee, my bonnie bride,
My joy, my passion, and my pride!

When loves the breeze to sigh no more,
To wave his locks the pine,
When lovers love to die no more
For beauty such as thine,
I'll love thee then no more, my bride,
For then will Love himself have died!