Sweet Calder! on thy flowery marge
When life was young I roamed at large,
With heart that owned no care, no charge,
Save for my tiny flower-fraught barge
Launch'd on the dancing stream.
On thy green banks I loved to lie
When high the sun and blue the sky-
Thy silver waters gushing by-
Watching the trout and minnow fry
O'er pearly pebbles gleam.
By fair Rosehall, through greenwood glades,
Thou glid'st through rose and hawthorn shades,
By hyacinth banks, where Monkland's maids
Unbind their dark or golden braids
And lave their snowy feet.
Oh! many a lone and lovely scene,
By Enoch's Hall and holms so green,
Within thy winding course is seen,
Where, rippling 'neath thy woodland screen,
Thy murmuring voice I greet.
Here would I dwell in rustic cot,
Where primrose tuft and cowslip knot,
Fox-glove, and sweet forget-me-not,
So richly gem the sylvan spot,
And sweetest fragrance shed.
Again beneath thy bordering trees
I walk, and breathe the scented breeze,
'Mid song of birds and hum of bees,
And still the scene each sense can please,
Though youth and joy have fled.