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I have heard the Mavis singing |
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his love song to the moon |
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I have seen the dewdrop clinging |
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to the rose just nearly born |
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But a sweeter song has cheer'd me |
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at the evening's gentle close |
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And I've seen an eye still brighter |
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than the dewdrop on the rose |
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'Twas thy voice, my gentle Mary, |
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and thine artless winning smile |
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That made this world an Eden, |
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Bonie Mary of Argyle |
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Tho' thy voice may lose its sweetness, |
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thine eye it's brightness too |
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Tho' thy step may lack its fleetness |
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and thy hair it's sunny hue |
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Still to me wilt thou be dearer |
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than all the world shall own |
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I have loved thee for thy beauty, |
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but not for that alone |
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I have watched thy heart, dear Mary |
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and its goodness was the wile |
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That has made thee mine forever, |
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Bonnie Mary of Argyle |
