Ralph Waldo Emerson, comp. (1803–1882). Parnassus: An Anthology of Poetry. 1880.
The Braes of YarrowJohn Logan (1748–1788)
T
When first on them I met my lover;
Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream,
When now thy waves his body cover!
Forever, now, O Yarrow stream!
Thou art to me a stream of sorrow;
For never on thy banks shall I
Behold my love, the flower of Yarrow!
To bear me to his father’s bowers;
He promised me a little page,
To squire me to his father’s towers;
He promised me a wedding-ring—
The wedding-day was fixed to-morrow:
Now he is wedded to his grave,
Alas, his watery grave in Yarrow!
With all the longing of a mother;
His little sister weeping walked
The greenwood path to meet her brother:
They sought him east, they sought him west,
They sought him all the forest thorough;
They only saw the cloud of night,
They only heard the roar of Yarrow.
Thou hast no son, thou tender mother!
No longer walk, thou lovely maid;
Alas! thou hast no more a brother!
No longer seek him east or west,
No longer search the forest thorough;
For wandering in the night so dark,
He fell a lifeless corse in Yarrow.