Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE EXILE, by ROYALL TYLER

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THE EXILE, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Now hearsly blaws the winters' flaw
Last Line: Sal faithfu' be to me.
Alternate Author Name(s): Old Simon; S.

Tune Gilderoy
From our Caledonian Loom


NOW hearsly blaws the winter's flaw,
Bleak frae the gowling north,
And fiercely drives the eddying snaw,
Wi' dreadful tempest forth.
But not the winter's angry flaw,
Can rob my heart o' glee;
While Bessy wha is far awa,
Is faithfu' unto me.


Her linty locks adorn her pow,
Like hawkies' milk her teeth,
And he who pries her gratfu' mou'
Sal taste the hawkies' breath.
Her beauties, O, I prize them a'
They fill my heart wi' glee,
For Bessy who is far awa,
Is faithfu' unto me.


Na mair I hear the laverocks sing,
Wha joy'd my native clime;
Na mair I see the gowans spring,
In A' their gawdy prime.
But Bessy sees and bears them a'
And sae they gi' me glee,
For Bessy wha is far awa,
Is faithfu' unto me.


Tho' like a plaintful ghaist I gae,
In distant countries roam,
Yet my sweet Bessy's heart sal be,
To me a constant hame.
To find that hame tho' Oceans awa
O'er them in thought I flee,
For Bessy wha is far awa,
Is faithfu' unto me.


Tho' growsome death should close her e'en
Before my love I greet,
I grieve na, for in glory sheen,
My Bessy I sal meet,
Na sorrow sal our bliss annoy,
We'll live in haly glee,
And Bessy in the WORLD AWA,
Sal faithfu' be to me.

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