64
GRACE OF CLYDESIDE.
GRACE OF CLYDESIDE.
H, little Grace of the golden locks,The hills rise fair on the shores of Clyde.
As the merry waves wear out these rocks
She wears my heart out, glides past and mocks:
But heaven's gate ever stands open wide.
The boat goes softly along, along,
Like a river of life glows the amber Clyde;
Her voice floats near me like angels' song,—
Ah, sweet love-death, but thy pangs are strong!
Though heaven's gate ever stands open wide.
Like a river of life glows the amber Clyde;
Her voice floats near me like angels' song,—
Ah, sweet love-death, but thy pangs are strong!
Though heaven's gate ever stands open wide.
We walk by the shore and the stars shine bright,
But coldly, above the solemn Clyde:
Her arm touches mine—her laugh rings light—
One hears my silence: His merciful night
Hides me—Can heaven be open wide?
But coldly, above the solemn Clyde:
Her arm touches mine—her laugh rings light—
One hears my silence: His merciful night
Hides me—Can heaven be open wide?
I ever was but a dreamer, Grace:
As the gray hills watch o'er the sunny Clyde,
Standing afar, each in his place,
I watch your young life's beautiful race,
Apart—until heaven be opened wide.
As the gray hills watch o'er the sunny Clyde,
Standing afar, each in his place,
I watch your young life's beautiful race,
Apart—until heaven be opened wide.
