know ye the fair one

know ye the fair one whom I love? 
High is her white and holy brow; 
Her looks so saintly-sweet and pure, 
Make men adore who come to woo; 
Her neck, o'er which her tresses hing, 
Is snow beneath a raven's wing. 

Her lips are like the red-rose bud, 
Dew-parted in a mom of June,
Her voice is gentler than the sound 
Of some far heard and heavenly tune,
Her little finger, white and round
Can make a hundred hearts to bound. 

My love's two eyes are bonnie stars, 
Born to adorn the summer skies; 
And I will by our tryste-thorn sit, 
To watch them at their evening rise: 
That when they shine on tower and tree, 
Their heavenly light may fall on me. 

Come, starry Eve, demure and gray. 
Now is the hour when maidens woo, 
Come shake o'er wood, and bank, and brae 
Thy tresses moist with balmy dew:
Thy dew ne'er dropt on flower or tree,
So lovely or so sweet as she. 

The laverock's bosom shone with dew,
Beside us on the lilied lea, 
She sung her mate down from the cloud 
To warble by my love and me; 
Nor from her young ones sought to move. 
For well she saw our looks were love.