[Page 314]

SONG,

WRITTEN FOR AN IRISH AIR.

1 THE morning air plays on my face,
2 And through the grey mist peering
3 The softened sun I sweetly trace,
4 Wood, muir and mountain cheering.
5 Larks aloft are singing,
6 Hares from covert springing,
7 And o'er the fen the wild-duck brood
8 Their early way are winging.
9 Bright every dewy hawthorn shines,
10 Sweet every herb is growing,
11 To him whose willing heart inclines
12 The way that he is going.
13 Clearly do I see now
14 What will shortly be now;
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15 I'm patting at her door poor Tray,
16 Who fawns and welcomes me now.
17 How slowly moves the rising latch!
18 How quick my heart is beating!
19 That worldly dame is on the watch
20 To frown upon our meeting.
21 Fy! why should I mind her,
22 See who stands behind her,
23 Whose eye upon her traveller looks
24 The sweeter and the kinder.
25 O every bounding step I take,
26 Each hour the clock is telling,
27 Bears me o'er mountain, bourn and brake
28 Still nearer to her dwelling.
29 Day is shining brighter,
30 Limbs are moving lighter,
31 While every thought to Nora's love,
32 But binds my love the tighter.

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About this text

Title (in Source Edition): SONG, WRITTEN FOR AN IRISH AIR.
Themes:
Genres: song

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Source edition

Fugitive Verses. By Joanna Baillie, author of “Dramas on the Passions,“ etc. London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street. MDCCCXL., 1840, pp. 314-315. 

Editorial principles

The text has been typographically modernized, but without any silent modernization of spelling, capitalization, or punctuation. The source of the text is given and all editorial interventions have been recorded in textual notes. Based on the electronic text originally produced by the ECCO-TCP project, this ECPA text has been edited to conform to the recommendations found in Level 5 of the Best Practices for TEI in Libraries version 3.0.

Other works by Joanna Baillie