[From the same]
It's dowie in the hint o' hairst, [dreary; end; harvest]
At the wa'-gang o' the swallow, [away-going]
When the wind blows cauld an' the burns grow bauld, [bold]
An' the wuds are hingin' yellow;
But oh! it's dowier far to see
The deid-set o' a shining e'e
That darkens the weary warld on thee.
There was muckle love atween us twa--
Oh! twa could ne'er been fonder;
An' the thing on yird was never made
That could hae gart us sunder.
But the way of Heaven's aboon a' ken, [above all knowing]
And we maun bear what it likes to sen'-- [must]
It's comfort, though, to weary men,
That the warst o' this warld's waes maun en'.
There's mony things that come and gae,
Just kent and syne forgotten;
The flow'rs that busk a bonnie brae [deck; slope]
Gin anither year lie rotten.
But the last look o' that lovin' e'e,
An' the dying grip she gied to me,
They're settled like eternitie--
O Mary! that I were with thee.