The life he 'll drap sae soon.
An' now the thorn pats on
Her robe o' white an' green,
An' glint the rigs o' corn
Tender as maidens' een.
Then come, my ain fair love,
An' snuff the cauler air;
Fair is the lift above,
But shaw thy face mae fair.
Come list the winter greet
To scent the grape's good smell,
An' daunce wi' flyin' feet
Roun's grave in yonder dell.
Laugh at the wind's sair mane,
As Spring gies her sweet smile,
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The Vesper Service.