O come, say, no more days to wait
O high land lass, bait again!
Let portrait thy land by thy trait
And go all shadows of pain.
Old meadows, glades- - all are still
Although unglistening at thy absence
Winter is gone, Farewell!
Yet, all pain my sense.
......
O come, say, no more days to wait
O high land lass, bait again!
Let portrait thy land by thy trait
And go all shadows of pain.
Old meadows, glades- - all are still
Although unglistening at thy absence
Winter is gone, Farewell!
Yet, all pain my sense.
......