The Emigrant Lassie

As I came wandering down Glen Span,
Where the braes are green and grassy,
With my light step I overtook
A weary-footed lassie.
She had one bundle on her back,
Another in her hand,
And she walked as one who was full loath
To travel from the land.
Quoth I, " My bonnie lass; " — for she
Had hair of flowing gold,
And dark brown eyes, and dainty limbs,
Right pleasant to behold—
" My bonnie lass, what aileth thee
On this bright summer day,
To travel sad and shoeless thus
Upon the stony way?
" I'm fresh and strong, and stoutly shod,
And thou art burdened so;
March lightly now, and let me bear
The bundles as we go."
" No, no! " she said; "that may not be;
What's mine is mine to bear;
Of good, or ill, as God may will,
I take my portioned share."
" But you have two and I have none;
One burden give to me;
I'll take that bundle from thy back,
That heavier seems to be."
" No, no! " she said; " that's, if you will,
That holds — no hand but mine
May bear it's weight from dear Glen Span,
'Cross the Atlantic brine! "
" Well, well! but tell me what may be
Within that precious load
Which thou dost bear with such fine care
Along the dusty road?
" Belike it is some present rare
From friend in parting hour;
Perhaps as prudent maiden's wont,
Thou tak'st with thee thy dower."
She drooped her head, and with her hand
She gave a mournful wave:
" Oh, do not jest, dear sir! — it is
Turf from my mother's grave! "
I spoke no word: we sat and wept
By the road-side together;
No purer dew on that bright day
Was dropt upon the heather.