The murmur of the mourning ghost <br /> That keeps the shadowy kine, <br /> "Oh, Keith of Ravelston, <br /> The sorrows of thy line!" <br /> <br /> Ravelston, Ravelston, <br /> The merry path that leads <br /> Down the golden morning hill, <br /> And thro' the silver meads; <br /> <br /> Ravelston, Ravelston, <br /> The stile beneath the tree, <br /> The maid that kept her mother's kine, <br /> The song that sang she! <br /> <br /> She sang her song, she kept her kine, <br /> She sat beneath the thorn, <br /> When Andrew Keith of Ravelston <br /> Rode thro' the Monday morn. <br /> <br /> His henchmen sing, his hawk-bells ring, <br /> His belted jewels shine! <br /> Oh, Keith of Ravelston, <br /> The sorrows of thy line! <br /> <br /> Year after year, where Andrew came, <br /> Comes evening down the glade, <br /> And still there sits a moonshine ghost <br /> Where sat the sunshine maid. <br /> <br /> Her misty hair is faint and fair, <br /> She keeps the shadowy kine; <br /> Oh, Keith of Ravelston, <br /> The sorrows of thy line! <br /> <br /> I lay my hand upon the stile, <br /> The stile is lone and cold, <br /> The burnie that goes babbling by <br /> Says nought that can be told. <br /> <br /> Yet, stranger! here, from year to year, <br /> She keeps her shadowy kine; <br /> Oh, Keith of Ravelston, <br /> The sorrows of thy line! <br /> <br /> Step out three steps, where Andrew stood-- <br /> Why blanch thy cheeks for fear? <br /> The ancient stile is not alone, <br /> 'Tis not the burn I hear! <br /> <br /> She makes her immemorial moan, <br /> She keeps her shadowy kine; <br /> Oh, Keith of Ravelston, <br /> The sorrows of thy line!<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-nupial-eve-excerpt/
