The Lass Of Cessnock Banks

On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells,
  Could I describe her shape and mien!
Our lasses a' she far excels---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

She's sweeter than the morning dawn,
  When rising Phoebus first is seen,
And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

She's stately like yon youthful ash,
  That grows the cowslip braes between,
And drinks the stream with vigour fresh---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

She's spotless like the flow'ring thorn,
  With flow'rs so white and leaves so green,
When purest in the dewy morn---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

Her looks are like the vernal May,
  When ev'ning Phoebus shines serene,
While birds rejoice on every spray---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

Her hair is like the curling mist,
  That climbs the mountain-sides at e'en,
When flower-reviving rains are past---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

Her forehead's like the show'ry bow,
  When gleaming sunbeams intervene,
And gild the distant mountain's brow---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem,
  The pride of all the flowery scene,
Just opening on its thorny stem---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

Her bosom's like the nightly snow,
  When pale the morning rises keen,
While hid the murm'ring streamlets flow---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

Her lips are like yon cherries ripe,
  That sunny walls from Boreas screen:
They tempt the taste and charm the sight
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

Her teeth are like a flock of sheep,
  With fleeces newly washen clean,
That slowly mount the rising steep---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

Her breath is like the fragrant breeze,
  That gently stirs the blossom'd bean,
When Phoebus sinks behind the seas---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush,
  That sings on Cessnock banks unseen,
While his mate sits nestling in the bush---
  An she has twa sparkling, rogueish een!

But it's not her air, her form, her face,
  Tho matching Beauty's fabled Queen:
'Tis the mind that shines in ev'ry grace---
  An chiefly in her rogueish een!

Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)