A Highland Husband’s Gift
Wear thy Mountain’s Diamond, Fairest!
With thy waving hair;
It shall noblest seem & rarest
If it sparkes there:
For only this dark gem can vie
With those brown tresses’ burnished dye,
And well the elves that guard it know
If it might touch thy spotless brow
For ever in they memory
Thy wedded love would living be.
Or hanging on the ear, Dearest,
A moment let it shine
Then in ev’ry voice thou hearest
Shall seem a sound of mine:
Yet no — for never by the tone
Of silver words is true-love known —
I would not tax thy soul to give
The fondness that on words can live:
Think not on mine — there was but one
I strove to speak, yet utter’d none.
But wear it on thy hand, sweetest,
Clasp’d with the holy gold
Then if a stranger’s hand thou meetest
Thine shall be winter-cold;
And thou shalt lute or tablet take
In bow’r or chamber for my sake,
And it shall teach thy pen to shew
How thoughts are told when hearts are true.
Then hide it in they breast, dearest!
If it be pure as fair
When to thy heart this gem is nearest
My image shall be there:
For it has spells more sure & strong
When hid its native snows among
And it shall have most pow’r to bless
Where all is peace and holiness.