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12 STEVENSON'S POEMS
I've no been very deep, ye'll think,
Cam1 delicately to the brink
An* when the water gart me shrink
Straucht took the rue, An5 didna stoop my fill to drink—
I own it true.
I kent on cape and isle, a light Burnt fair an' clearly ilka night ; But at the service I took fright,
As sune's I saw, AnJ being still a neophite
Gaed straucht awa'.
Anither course I now begin, The weeg I'll cairry for my sin, The court my voice shall echo in,
An'—wha can tell ?— Some ither day I may be yin
O' you myser.