The Rover

by Sir Walter Scott

 

‘A weary lot is thine, fair maid,
     A weary lot is thine!
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,
     And press the rue for wine.
A lightsome eye, a soldier’s mien,
     A feather of the blue,
A doublet of the Lincoln green―
     No more of me you knew
                                     My Love!
No more of me you knew.
 
‘This morn is merry June, I trow,
     The rose is budding fain;
But she shall bloom in winter snow
     Ere we two meet again.’
He turn’d his charger as he spake
     Upon the river shore,
He gave the bridle-reins a shake,
     Said ‘Adieu for evermore
                                    My Love!
And adieu for evermore.’
 
Sir Walter Scott | Classic Poems
 

[ Coronach ] [ Gathering Song of Donald the Black ] [ Lochinvar ] [ The Rover ]
 

 


 

 

 
 
 
 

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