Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet dare na for your anger;
But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer.
IV.
If thou refuse to pity me,
If thou shall love anither,
When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
Around my grave they'll wither.
* * * * *
CCXLVI.
O LASSIE, ART THOU SLEEPING YET.
Tune--"_Let me in this ae night._"
[The thoughts of Burns, it is said, wandered to the fair Mrs. Riddel,
of Woodleigh Park, while he composed this song for Thomson. The idea
is taken from an old lyric, of more spirit than decorum.]
I.
O Lassie, art thou sleeping yet,
Or art thou waking, I would wit?
For love has bound me hand and foot,
And I would fain be in, jo.
O let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
For pity's sake this ae night,
O rise and let me in, jo!
II.
Thou hear'st the winter wind and weet!
Nae star blinks thro' the driving sleet:
Tak pity on my weary feet,
And shield me frae the rain, jo.
III.
The bitter blast that round me blaws,
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's;
The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause
Of a' my grief and pain, jo.
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