Anonymous

“ More fragrant than the vernal air,
More gentle than the turtle dove,
Or streams that murmur through the grove
Bethink that all is on the wing,
These pleasures wait on wasting spring
Then come, the transient bliss enjoy ”

“ Will blame my youthful fancy,
But she ne'er saw my Nancy
the pride of Logie green.
Her cheek the vermeil rose is,
Her smile a heaven discloses,
No lily leaf that blows is,
so fair on Logie green. ”