Poetry Archives

Proud Maisie is in the wood,
  Walking so early;
Sweet Robin sits on the bush,
  Singing so rarely.

‘Tell me, thou bonny bird,
  When shall I marry me?’
—’When six braw gentlemen
  Kirkward shall carry ye.’

‘Who makes the bridal bed,
  Birdie, say truly?’
—’The grey-headed sexton
  That delves the grave duly.

‘The glow-worm o’er grave and stone
  Shall light thee steady;
The owl from the steeple sing
  Welcome, proud lady!’