LOVE AMANG THE HEATHER. 



The Crook and the Plaid 



He pu's the bells o' Heather red, and the lily flowers 



sae meek, 

 Ca's the lily like my bosom and the heath bell like 



my cheek; 

 His words are sweet and tender, as the dew frae 



Heaven shed, 

 And weel I lo'e to list the lad that wears the crook 



and plaid. Henry Scott Riddell. 



I'll Twine a Wreath 



The Heather bell, from cliff and fell, 



I'll seek where zephyr blows ; 

 At early morn, from off the thorn, 



I'll cull the new-blown rose; 

 And lily, pale, from verdant vale, 



That bends beneath the storm, 

 Emblem of you, all bathed in dew, 



And spotless as thy form. 



Wm. Rennie. 



The Heathy Hills 



O! were I on the heathy hills 



That rise aboon the Stanley lea, 

 And wand'ring by the crystal rills 



Where, Mary, first I courted thee. 

 There mem'ry would recall the hours 



I aft would spend at evening's fa', 

 To twine for thee a wreath o' flowers 



The flowers o' Caledonia. 



Mitchell. 

 205 



