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The Tear-Drop

2018-11-12T18:28:33+00:00Categories: 1794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e; Lang, langhas Joy been a stranger to me: Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear, And the sweet voice o'Pity ne'er sounds in my ear. Love thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I luv'd; Love, thou hast sorrows, and sairhae I pruv'd; Butthis bruised heart

Forlorn, My Love, No Comfort Near

2018-11-12T18:28:50+00:00Categories: 1795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Forlorn, my Love, nocomfort near, Far, far from thee, I wander here; Far, far from thee, the fate severe, At which I most repine, Love. Chorus-O wert thou, Love, but near me! Butnear, near, near me, How kindly thou wouldst cheer me, And mingle sighs with mine, Love. Around me scowls a wintry sky, Blasting

The Winter Of Life

2018-11-12T18:28:33+00:00Categories: 1794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

But lately seen in gladsome green, The woods rejoic'd the day, Thro' gentle showers, the laughing flowers In double pride were gay: But now our joys are fled On winter blasts awa; Yet maiden May, in rich array, Again shall bring them a'. But my white pow, naekindly thowe Shall melt the snaws of Age;

Wilt Thou Be My Dearie?

2018-11-12T18:28:38+00:00Categories: 1794, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Wilt thou be my Dearie? When Sorrow wring thy gentle heart, O wilt thou let me cheer thee! Bythe treasure of my soul, That's the love I bearthee: I swear and vow that only thou Shall ever be my Dearie! Only thou, I swear and vow, Shall ever be my Dearie! Lassie, say thou lo'es

Remorseful Apology

2018-11-12T18:28:32+00:00Categories: 1794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

The friend whom, wild from Wisdom's way, The fumes of wine infuriate send, (Not moony madness more astray) Who butdeplores that hapless friend? Mine was th' insensate frenzied part, Ah! why should I such scenes outlive? Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!- 'Tis thine to pity and forgive.

Saw Ye My Dear, My Philly

2018-11-12T18:28:38+00:00Categories: 1794, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

O saw ye my Dear, my Philly? O sawye my Dear, my Philly, She's down i'the grove, she's wi'a new Love, She winnacome hameto her Willy. What says she my dear, my Philly? What says she my dear, my Philly? She lets thee to wit she has thee forgot, And forever disowns thee, her Willy.

She Says She Loes Me Best Of A’

2018-11-12T18:28:38+00:00Categories: 1794, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Sae flaxen were her ringlets, Her eyebrows of a darker hue, Bewitchingly o'er-arching Twalaughing e'eno' lovely blue; Her smiling, sae wyling. Wad make a wretch forget his woe; What pleasure, what treasure, Unto these rosy lips to grow! Such was my Chloris' bonie face, When first that bonieface I saw; And aye my Chloris' dearest

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