Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Scotland: Vols. VI–VIII. 1876–79.
Phemie Irving
By Allan Cunningham (1784–1842)G
With all thy groves flowering;
Green is thy glen, Corrie,
When July is showering;
And sweet is yon wood where
The small birds are bowering,
For there dwells the sweet one
Whom I am adoring.
Than winter when snowing;
Her meek voice is milder
Than Ae in its flowing;
The glad ground yields music
When she goes by the river;
One kind glance would charm me
For ever and ever.
To Phemie are bowing;
No looks of love win they
With sighing and suing.
Far away maun I stand
With my rude wooing;
She ’s a floweret too lovely
To bloom for my pu’ing.
On which she is walking!
O, were I yon small bird
To which she is talking!
Or yon rose in her hand,
With its ripe, ruddy blossom,
Or some pure, gentle thought
To be blest with her bosom!