The Book of Scottish Song/In airy dreams

by Anne Hunter

In airy dreams.

[Mrs. John Hunter.]

In airy dreams fond fancy flies,
My absent love to see,
And with the early dawn I rise,
Dear youth, to think of thee.

How swiftly flew the rosy hours,
When hope and love were new;
Sweet was the time as op'ning flowers,
But ah! 'twas transient too.

The moments now move slowly on,
Until thy wish'd return;
I count them pensive and alone,
As in the shades I mourn.

Return, return, my love, and charm
Each anxious care to rest;
Thy voice shall every doubt disarm,
And soothe my troubled breast.

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