Robert Burns

Behold The Hour The Boat Arrive second version

written in 1793

Behold the hour, the boat arrive; Thou goest, the darling of my heart; Sever'd from thee, can I survive, But Fate has will'd and we must part. I'll often greet the surging swell, Yon distant Isle will often hail: "E'en here I took the last farewell; There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail." Along the solitary shore , While flitting sea-fowl round me cry, Across the rolling, dashing roar, I'll westward turn my wistful eye: "Happy thou Indian grove," I'll say, "Where now my Nancy's path may be! While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray, O tell me, does she muse on me!"

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