The Lover's Songster/My Mary Dear, &c.

by Robert Burns

For other versions of this work, see To Mary in Heaven (Burns).

My Mary Dear, &c.

THOU ling'ring star, with less'ning ray,
That lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher'st in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

That sacred hour can I forget?
Can I forget the hallow'd grove,
Where, by the winding Ayr, we met,
To live one day of parting love?
Eternity can ne'er efface
Those records dear of transport past;
Thy image, at our last embrace,
Ah! little thought we 'twas our last.

Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd its pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild-woods thick'ning green;
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,
Twin'd am'rous round the raptur'd scene
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest:
The birds sang love on ev'ry spray;
Till too, too soon the glowing west
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.

Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care;
Time but the impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?