O were my love yon Lilac fair,Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring,And I, a bird to shelter there,When wearied on my little wing!How I wad mourn when it was tornBy Autumn wild, and Winter rude!But I wad sing on wanton wing,When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d.
O gin my love were yon red rose,That grows upon the castle wa’;And I myself a drap o’ dew,Into her bonie breast to fa’!O there, beyond expression blest,I’d feast on beauty a’ the night;Seal’d on her silk-saft faulds to rest,Till fley’d awa by Phoebus’ light!