Such flowers how much will florists prize, On lover’s grave that growing, Are watered by his mistress’ eyes, With pity ever-flowing. A grave so deckt will, though thou art 45 Yet fearful to come nigh me, Provoke thee straight to break thy heart, And lie down boldly by me. Then everywhere all bells shall ring, All light to darkness turning; 50 While every quire shall sadly sing, And nature’s self wear mourning. Yet we hereafter may be found, By destiny’s right placing, Making, like flowers, love underground, 55 Whose roots are still embracing. _Sir William Davenant._ CLIII _THE SAILOR’S RETURN._ And are ye sure the news is true? And are ye sure he’s weel? Is this a time to think o’ wark? Ye jades, lay by your wheel; Is this the time to spin a thread, 5 When Colin’s at the door? Reach down my cloak, I’ll to the quay, And see him come ashore. For there’s nae luck about the house, There’s nae luck at a’; 10 There’s little pleasure in the house, When our gudeman’s awa’. And gie to me my bigonet, My bishop’s satin gown; For I maun tell the baillie’s wife 15 That Colin’s in the town. My Turkey slippers maun gae on, My stockins pearly blue; It’s a’ to pleasure our gudeman, For he’s baith leal and true. 20 Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside, Put on the muckle pot; Gie little Kate her button gown And Jock his Sunday coat; And mak their shoon as black as slaes, 25 Their hose as white as snaw; It’s a’ to please my ain gudeman, For he’s been long awa. There’s twa fat hens upo’ the coop Been fed this month and mair; 30 Mak haste and thraw their necks about, That Colin weel may fare; And spread the table neat and clean, Gar ilka thing look braw, For wha can tell how Colin fared 35 When he was far awa? Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, His breath like caller air; His very foot has music in’t As he comes up the stair-- 40 And will I see his face again? And will I hear him speak? I’m downright dizzy wi’ the thought, In troth I’m like to greet!