When I ran about,
Oimè!
All the flowers came out,
Oimè!
Here and there like stray things,
Just to be my playthings.
Oimè! Oimè!
Mother’s eyes were deep,
Oimè!
Never needing sleep.
Oimè!
Morning—they’re above me!
Eventide—they love me!
Oimè! Oimè!
Father was so tall!
Oimè!
Stronger he than all!
Oimè!
On his arm he bore me,
Queen of all before me.
Oimè! Oimè!
Mother is asleep!
Oimè!
For her eyes so deep,
Oimè!
Grew so tired and aching,
They could not keep waking,
Oimè! Oimè!
Father though so strong
Oimè!
Laid him down along—
Oimè!
By my mother sleeping;
And they left me weeping,
Oimè! Oimè!
Now nor bird, nor bee,
Oimè!
Ever sings to me
Oimè!
Since they left me crying,
All things have been dying.
Oimè! Oimè!
Song.
RONALD CAMPBELL MACFIE
Alas, alas, eheu!
That the sky is only blue,
To gather from the grass
The rain and dew!
Alas! that eyes are fair:
That tears may gather there
Mist and the breath of sighs
From the marsh of care!