The Book of Scottish Song/O, leave me not

O, leave me not.

[From a volume of very clever poetical pieces, entitled, "Rambling Rhymes, by Alexander Smart: Edinburgh, 1834." Mr. Smart is, we understand, a compositor in Edinburgh.]

O, leave me not! the evening hour,
So soft, so still, is all our own;
The dew descends on tree and flower,
They breathe their sweets for thee alone.
O, go not yet!—the evening star,
The rising moon, all bid thee stay;
And dying echoes, faint and far,
Invite our lingering steps to stray.

Far from the city's noisy din,
Beneath the pale moon's trembling light,
That lip to press—those smiles to win—
Will lend a rapture to the night.
Let fortune fling her fiivours free
To whom she will, I'll ne'er repine—
O, what is all the world to me,
While thus I clasp and call thee mine?

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