As I came wandering down Glen Spean,
Where the braes are green and grassy,
With my light step I overtook
A weary-footed lassie.
She had one bundle on her back,
Another in her hand,
And she walked as one who was full loath
To travel from the land.
Quoth I, “My bonnie lass!”—for she
Had hair of flowing gold,...
I ’m sittin’ on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side
On a bright May mornin’ long ago,
When first you were my bride;
The corn was springin’ fresh and green,
And the lark sang loud and high—
And the red was on your lip, Mary,
And the love-light in your eye.
The place is little changed, Mary;
The day is...
