First when Maggie was my care, Heav'n, I thought, was in her air, Now we're married-speir nae mair, But whistle o'er the lave o't! Meg was meek, and Meg was mild, Sweet and harmless as a child -- Wiser men than me's beguil'd; Whistle o'er the lave o't! How we live, my Meg and me, How we love, and how we gree, I care na by how few may see -- Whistle o'er the lave o't! Wha I wish were maggot's meat, Dish'd up in her winding-sheet, I could write -- but Meg maun see't -- Whistle o'er the lave o't! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 22 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE WRITER'S JOURNAL: POSSESSION by BAYARD TAYLOR QUATRAIN: THE IRON AGE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE BOTTOM DRAWER by MARY A. BARR THE FOURE MONARCHIES: ASSYRIAN. SEMIRAMIS by ANNE BRADSTREET TO DUST RETURNING by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |