8
A CHILD OF SORROW
II
Her brow is like the snawdrift,Her throat is like the swan;Her face it is the fairestThat e'er the sun shone on,That e'er the sun shone on,And dark blue is her e'e,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie,I'd lay me down and dee.
III
Like dew on th' gowan lyingIs th' fa' o' her fairy feet,And like winds in summer sighing,Her voice is low and sweet,Her voice is low and sweet,And she's a' the world to me—
And for bonnie Annie Laurie,I'd lay me down and dee.
Had a full-blooded Scotch ever heard him sing the passionate ballad, he might have envied him in his sentimental voice of love and longing and cheered him up and made him love just as loyal and just as faithful and sincere as ever man loved woman.
He was full of emotions. There he was. Slender and well-built physically, with auburn hair, gay and graceful demeanor, and dark brown eyes. He was wearing native-spun clothes, and homemade slippers. His eyes were fascinating, and his face was oval and manly handsome, among his people,—his skin was white-brownish in complexion.
