THE HONEYSUCKLE OR WOODBINE. LONE, the woodbine droops and pines, Consigned to man's protecting care! ALEX. BALFOUR. ATHOUGH THOU MAUN NEVER BE MINE. ERE'S a health to ane I lo'e dear, Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear-Jessy! Although thou maun never be mine, Than aught in the world beside-Jessy! I mourn through the gay, gaudy day, I guess by the dear angel smile, I guess by the love-rolling ee; 'Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree-Jessy! Here's a health, &c. BURNS. HE Wind and the Beam loved the Rose, For who recks the Wind where it blows? None knew whence the humble Wind stole, None dreamt that the Wind had a soul Oh! happy Beam-how canst thou prove. In thy light is the proof of thy love, Thou hast but-to shine. How its love can the Wind reveal? Unwelcome its sigh, Mute-mute to its Rose let it steal, BULWER. |