J. F. Campbell Collection > Popular rhymes of Scotland

ORIGINAL POEMS.
Her parasol, that from the sun
Protects her roseate complexion,
I don't know which I love the most —
The thing that takes, or gives protection.
The thiilling music of her voice
Puts all my senses in a tussle ;
And every nerve springs up to hear
Her distant bombazines play rustle.
Whate'er she does, whate'er she says,
For good, indifferent, or ill,
'Tis all one luxury to my soul,
'Tis Julia yet, 'tis Julia still.
Say that she talks of mutual love,
And puts her poor swain in a raptm-e ;
Say that she tells her kitchen-maid
To make in poultry-yard a capture ;
Say that she reads some toucliing tale,
That gems with tears her soft eyelashes ;
Say that she pities but the scribe
Whom some fell critic cuts and slashes ;
'Tis all one thing — mind, person, dress —
The formed of heaven, or dust, or shears —
I love the whole, and nothing less,
I love her overhead — and ears.
THOU GENTLE AND KIND ONE.
Thou gentle and kind one.
Who com'st o'er my dreams,
Like the gales of the west.
Or the music of streams ;
Oh, softest and dearest,
Can that time e'er be.
When I could be forgetful
Or scornful of thee ?
No ! my soul might be dark,
Like a landscape in shade,
And for thee not the half
Of its love be displayed,