The Rustic’s Lassie

MY lassie’s face is fair to see,
My lassie’s eyes are blue,
And always do they tell to me
Her heart is fond and true.

There’s silk, too, on my lassie’s head,
As yellow as the gold,
And woven is each shining thread
Into a braided fold.

But never fairy hands did spin
Silk like my lassie’s hair,
As for the strings beneath her chin
I would not have them there.

Lest one dear dimple growing shy
That everyone should see,
Within those silken strings would try
To hide itself from me.

My lassie wears a gown of white,
Which needs no pearls to deck,
With lace like cobweb, soft and light,
Full-gathered at her neck.

My lassie wears upon her breast
No knot of ribbon gay,
Forget-me-nots she loves the best,
Plucked at the dawn of day.

My lassie’s feet like two white mice
Go slipping through the grass,
And all the dew-drops think them nice,
And kiss them as they pass.

The satin shoe with buckle drest
Is richer, it may be,
But if the truth must be confest,
Not half so good to see.

My lassie’s face is fair to see,
My lassie’s eyes are blue,
And always do they tell to me
Her heart is fond and true.