What Gars the Parting Day-beam Blush

What gars the parting day-beam blush,
An' linger owre yon summit lowering ?
It sees me in the greenwood bush,
Ahint the brier an' willow cowering.
The gloaming starn keeks owre the yoke,
An' strews wi' gowd the stream sae glassy ;
The raven sleeps aboon the rock,
An' I wait for my bonnie lassie.

Weel may I tent the siller dew,
That comes at e'en sae saftly stealing ;
The silken hue, the bonnie blue
Of nature's rich an' radiant ceiling ;
The lily lea, the vernal tree ;
The night breeze owre the broom-wood creeping ;
The fading day, the milky way,
The star-beam on the water sleeping :
For gin my Jeanie war but here,
My flower sae lovely an' sae loving,
I'll see nought but her een sae clear,
I'll hear nought but her accents moving,
Although the bat wi' velvet wing
Wheels round our bed sae damp an' grassy,
O, I'll be happier than a king,
Locked in thy arms, my bonnie lassie !

Nae art hast thou, nae pawkie wile,
The rapid flow of love impelling ;
But O, the love that lights thy smile
Wad lure an angel frae his dwelling !
Can I — can ane o' human race
E'er wound thy peace, or evil treat thee ?
For sure thy bonnie harmless face
Wad melt the lion's heart to pity.

Alas ! that love's relucent lowe
A bleered regret should ever sloken !
That heavenly gleed, that living glow,
Of endless happiness the token.
I'll fling my waes upon the wind ;
Ye warldly cares, I'll lightly pass ye ;
Nae thought shall waver through my mind
But raptures wi' my bonnie lassie.

This primrose bank shall be our bed,
Our canopy the waving willow,
This briery brake shall guard our heap,
Its wild rose nodding owre our pillow :
Her lips, her bosom, pressed to mine !

Ah, paradise, it must surpass ye !

I'll ask nae purer joys divine,
Than sic a bower, an' sic a lassie.