_Air_--"The Lass of Peatie's Mill."
How sweet it is to rove
Through vallies rich and wide,
Or with a friend we love
O'er the still waves to glide!
'Tis sweet to see the day
Withdraw her golden car,
And watch the glimmering ray
Of Eve's first silver star!
'Tis sweet to hail the dawn,
In blushes ever new--
And mark the young, fleet fawn,
Brush off the crystal dew!
But sweeter far than Eve
Or early Morning's prime,
Are smiles that ne'er deceive,
And love unchanged by time!
Tho' fickle fortune frown,
And wealth withhold her store,
What is a jewelled crown?
A bauble soon no more.
But love, pure love, is gold
Which nothing can consume;
And smiles that ne'er grow cold,
Are flowers of fadeless bloom!