The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||
WHERE, BRAVING ANGRY WINTER'S STORMS
I
Where, braving angry winter's storms,The lofty Ochils rise,
Far in their shade my Peggy's charms
First blest my wondering eyes:
As one who by some savage stream
A lonely gem surveys,
Astonish'd doubly, marks it beam
With art's most polish'd blaze.
II
Blest be the wild, sequester'd glade,And blest the day and hour,
Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd,
When first I felt their pow'r!
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May seize my fleeting breath,
But tearing Peggy from my soul
Must be a stronger death.
The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||