Fair Helen of Kirkconnel

Hold me upon thy faithful heart,
Keep back my flitting breath;
’Tis early, early to depart,
Beloved!--yet this is death!

Look on me still--let that kind eye
Be the last light I see!
Oh! sad it is in spring to die,
But yet I die for thee!

For thee, my own!--thy stately head
Was never thus to bow:
Give tears when with me love hath fled,
True love, thou know’st it now!

Oh, the free streams look’d bright, where’er
We in our gladness roved;
And the blue skies were very fair,
O friend! because we loved.

Farewell!--I bless thee--live thou on
When this young heart is low!
Surely my blood thy life hath won--
Clasp me once more--I go!