“Now come, now come, take up your song,
And pace with me the banks along
Where blooms the sturdy Yarrow.”
Far up they climb, the hilly sides,
And there, like shyly glancing brides,
We found the rosy Yarrow.
My heart was like the drop of dew
The merry sun was shining through
Upon the clustered Yarrow:
But what new joy it found that day,
My little song, you must not say,
Nor you, my bonny Yarrow—
A joy so dear, too dear to tell,
My flower, my friend, we know it well,
My bonny, bonny Yarrow.