My Mary from my soul was torn.

O Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest?

Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

That sacred hour can I forget?

Can I forget the hallow'd grove,

Where by the winding Ayr we met,

To live one day of parting love?

Eternity will not efface