| |
| THE SILVER moon’s enamoured beam, | |
| Steals softly thro’ the night, | |
| To wanton with the winding stream, | |
| And kiss reflected light. | |
| To beds of state go balmy sleep | 5 |
| (’Tis where you’ve seldom been), | |
| May’s Vigil while the shepherds keep | |
| With Kate of Aberdeen. | |
| |
| Upon the green the virgins wait, | |
| In rosy chaplets gay, | 10 |
| Till morn unbar her golden gate, | |
| And give the promised May. | |
| Methinks I hear the maids declare, | |
| The promised May, when seen, | |
| Not half so fragrant, half so fair, | 15 |
| As Kate of Aberdeen. | |
| |
| Strike up the tabor’s boldest notes, | |
| We’ll rouse the nodding grove; | |
| The nested birds shall raise their throats, | |
| And hail the maid of love; | 20 |
| And see—the matin lark mistakes, | |
| He quits the tufted green: | |
| Fond bird! ’tis not the morning breaks,— | |
| ’Tis Kate of Aberdeen. | |
| |
| Now lightsome o’er the level mead, | 25 |
| Where midnight fairies rove, | |
| Like them the jocund dance we’ll lead, | |
| Or tune the reed to love: | |
| For see the rosy May draws nigh, | |
| She claims a virgin Queen; | 30 |
| And hark, the happy shepherds cry, | |
| ’Tis Kate of Aberdeen. | |
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