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Robert Burns - Thou Lingering Star
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Thou lingering star, with less`ning ray,
     That lov`st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usherast in the day
     My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary, dear departed shade
     Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See`st thou thy lover lowly laid?
     Hear`st thou the groans that rend his breast?

That sacred hour can I forget?
     Can I forget the hallow`d grove
Where, by the winding Ayr, we met,
     To live one day of parting love?
Eternity cannot efface
     Those records dear of transports past,
Thy image at our last embrace—-
     Ah! little thought we `twas our last!

Ayr, gurgling, kiss`d his pebbled shore,
     O`erhung with wild-woods, thickening green;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar,
     Twin`d amorous round the raptur`d scene;
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest
     The birds sang love on every spray
Till too, too soon, the glowing west,
     Proclaim`d the speed of winged day.

Still o`er these scenes my mem`ry wakes,
     And fondly broods with miser-care;
Time but th` impression stronger makes,
     As streams their channels deeper wear.
O Mary! dear departed shade!
     Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See`st thou thy lover lowly laid?
     Hear`st thou the groans that rend his breast?
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