An Hour With an Old Love

Lat me look into thy face, Jeanie,
As I 've look'd in days gane by,
When you gae me kiss for kiss, Jeanie,
And answer'd sigh for sigh;
When in our youth's first flame, Jeanie,
Although poor and lane together,
We had wealth in our ain love, Jeanie,
And were a' to ane anither!

Oh, blessin's on thy lips, Jeanie,
They ance were dear to me,
As the honey-savour'd blossoms
To the nectar-hunting bee!
It kens whar dwalls the banquets
O' the sweetest dewy wine--
And as the chosen flower to it,
Sae were thy lips to mine.

I see thy very thochts, Jeanie,
Deep in thy clear blue e'e,
As ye 'll see the silver fishes flash,
When ye sail the midnicht sea;
And ye needna close the lids, Jeanie,
Though the thochts they are nae mine,
For I see there 's nae repentant ane,
That they ance were sae langsyne.

Oh, lat me hear thy voice, Jeanie--
Ay, that 's the very chime,
Whase silver echoes haunted me
Through a' my youthfu' prime.
Speak on! thy gentle words, Jeanie,
Awake a blessed train
Of memories that I thocht had slept
To never wake again!

God's blessin's on your heart, Jeanie,
And your face sae angel fair!
May the ane be never pierced wi' grief,
Nor the ither blanch'd wi' care;
And he wha has your love, Jeanie,
May he be dear to thee,
As I may aiblins ance have been--
And as thou 'rt still to me!