File:Sir Rae. A poem (1877) (14761762994).jpg

Identifier: sirraepoem00tola (find matches)
Title: Sir Rae. A poem ..
Year: 1877 (1870s)
Authors: Toland, M. B. M. (Mary Bertha McKenzie), 1825?-1895
Subjects:
Publisher: Philadelphia, J.B. Lippincott & Co.
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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Text Appearing Before Image:
An old straw hat coquettish laid
O'er sunny, laughing eyes to shade;
And fondly oer her shoulders fair
Twined many a golden tress of hair.
In rose-tint contrast with the green,
Two little feet could well be seen,—
Feet that oft kiss the mountain dews.
All free alike from socks and shoes.

13

14 SIR RAE.

II.

Her face was radiant with joy
As a tall lad, more man than boy,
In Highland kilt, on foamino; steed.
Pranced to her side with bated speed.
His brow was damp with exercise;
His ruddy cheeks, his dark-blue eyes,
Earnest of health and youthful glee,
Bespoke a heart from sorrow free.

III.

" Maidee !" he cried, " none e'er so true
As this bright day Ive proved to you;
Lord Duncan planned such sport this morn,
That, but for you, with hound and horn
I(d lead with him a merry race.
Hunting the wild deer in the chase."
She answered, with a child-like grace.
Warm blushes mantling oer her face,
Im almost sorry you should choose
For me such royal sport to lose.
Of late I've suffered doubt and fear,
Lest it be wrong, our meeting here.
Text Appearing After Image:


"IN HIGHLAND KILT, ON FOAMING STEED." Page 14

SIR RAE. 17

Jean's glances grow suspicious, cold ;
She says Im getting forward, bold:
Leaving my books to tramp the wood
With you will never end in good.
And, Rae, she has an evil eye
While watching you, I know not why.
She says your friends will all despise
The one so lovely in your eyes."

IV.

" Oh, fie ! fie ! fie ! My Maidee fair,
What high-born lass could eer compare
With half the goodness, half the grace,
Or half the beauty of your face?
It seems to perfect every hour,
Like dawning bud to opening flower.
Maidee ! an angel must have given
Dame Jean the fairest out of heaven.
You seem no part of that old crone ;
The violet, by jagged stone,
Oft thrives in sweetness neath its frown ;
And yet no kindred they have known
Of each to each. Her learning great
Is all that e'er could compensate
3

18 SIR RAE.

For ugliness so like a curse
Old Satan could not make it worse."

V.

Thrice as he spake, her finger shook
In warning gesture ; bade him look
At the gaunt figure drawing near,
While her own heart stood still with fear.

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