Poems with rhymes of thine

Unchanged, unextinguished its life-spring will shine;
When Erin has ceased with their memory to groan,
She will smile through the tears of revival on thine.

Though neither wealth nor power are thine,
A very hero thou dost shine.

In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.

Sweet lures, repine
When the dear love she yielded with a sigh
Was all but thine?

Let my Future radiant shine
With sweet hopes of thee and thine!

Love, love, what wilt thou with this heart of mine?
Naught see I fixed or sure in thee!
I do not know thee,--nor what deeds are thine:

How sick—to wait—in any place—but thine—
I knew last night—when someone tried to twine—

In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.

That beauty such as thine
Can die indeed,
Were ordinance too wantonly malign:

For shame or pity, now incline
To play a loving part;
Either to send me kindly thine,

Not once beat 'Praise be Thine!
I see the whole design,

Woke his happy mate within me to an answer free and fine;
And a sudden angel beckoned from a column of blue smoke -
Lord, who am I that they should stoop - these holy folk of thine?

Were Princes grac'd with Souls like thine,
Princes had still been deem'd divine.

Kille, kille, lambkin mine,
Take good care of that fleece-coat thine!

My spouse, beloved and divine!
Then I am rich, and I abound,
When every human heart is thine.

Forgive me, God, and blot each line
Out of my book, that is not Thine.

Here lieth one who would resign
Gladly his lot, to shoulder thine.

Gaily mount, and wave the sign
Of that mastery of thine.

What hast thou done to this dear friend of mine,
Thou cold, white, silent Stranger? From my hand
Her clasped hand slips to meet the grasp of thine;

Mix in thy bitter wine: -
Drink, while the cup is thine,