 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
ON CHLORIS
REQUESTING ME TO GIVE HER A SPRIG OF BLOSSOMED THORN
From the white-blossom'd sloe my dear Chloris requestedA sprig, her fair breast to adorn:
‘No, by Heaven!’ I exclaim'd, ‘let me perish for ever,
Ere I plant in that bosom a thorn!’
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |