Analysis of Carigieburn Wood

Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn,
     And blythe awakens the morrow,
But a' the pride o' spring's return
     Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

I see the flowers and spreading trees,
     I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
     And care his bosom wringing?

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
     Yet darena for your anger'
But secret love will break my heart,
     If I conceal it langer.

If thou refuse to pity me,
     If thou shalt love anither,
When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
     Around my grave they'll wither.