56. Oh! her beauty is fair to see,
But still and steadfast is her e'e,
And the soft desire of maiden's e'en,
In that mild face can never be seen.
Her seymat is the lily flower,
And her cheek the moss-rose in a shower,
And her voice, like the distant melody
That floats along the twilight sea.
But she lo'es to raike the lonely glen,
And keep afar frae the haunts o' men.