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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=550291" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Despairing Mary</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mary why thus waste thy youth-time in sorrow?<br>See, a' around you the flowers sweetly blaw;<br>Blithe sets the sun o'er the wild cliffs of Jura,<br>Blithe sings the mavis in ilka green shaw.<br>How can this heart ever mair think of pleasure,<br>Summer may smile, but delight I ha'e nane;<br>Cauld in the grave lies my heart's only treasure,<br>Nature seems dead since my Jamie is gane. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This 'kerchief he gave me, a true lover's token,<br>Dear, dear to me was the gift for his sake!<br>I wear't near my heart, but this poor heart is broken,<br>Hope died with Jamie, and left it to break<br>Sighing for him, I lie down in the e'ening,<br>Sighing for him, I awake in the morn;<br>Spent are my days a' in secret repining,<br>Peace to this bosom can never return. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oft have we wander'd in sweetest retirement,<br>Telling our loves 'neath the moon's silent beam,<br>Sweet were our meetings of tender endearment,<br>But fled are these joys like a fleet-passing dream.<br>Cruel Remembrance, ah! why wilt thou wreck me,<br>Brooding o er joys that for ever are flown!<br>Cruel Remembrance, in pity forsake me,<br>Flee to some bosom where grief is unknown!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Tannahill">Robert Tannahill</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=550291" data-title="Despairing Mary de Robert Tannahill" data-description="Mary why thus waste thy youth-time in sorrow?
See, a' around you the flowers sweetly blaw;
Blithe sets the sun o'er the wild cliffs of Jura,
Blithe sings the mavis in ilka green shaw.
How can this heart ever mair think of pleasure,
Summer may smil..."></div>
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