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(48) Page 42 - Jamie o' the Glen
42
'Thy image, at onr last embrace ;
Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last !
Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thick'aing green ;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar
. Twin'd around the raptur'd scene ;
The flow'rs sprang, wanton to be prest.
The birds sang love on ev'rj spray,
Till too, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.
Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes.
And fondly broods with miser care ;
Time but th' impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary, dear departed shade I
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ?
Jamie o' the Glen,
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AuLoRobjthe laird o' muG-ldeland,T©

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