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The Poetry of Robert Burns

Edited by William Ernest Henley and Thomas F. Henderson
Burns, Robert (1759-1796)
  
[epigraph]
  
[dedication]

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Volume I
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KILMARNOCK 1786
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EPITAPHS
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ADDED, EDINBURGH 1787
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ADDED, EDINBURGH 1793
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Volume II
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Volume III
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VOLUME IV

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96

I DO CONFESS THOU ART SAE FAIR

I

I do confess thou art sae fair,
I wad been o'er the lugs in luve,
Had I na found the slightest prayer
That lips could speak thy heart could muve.
I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so thriftless o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.

II

See yonder rosebud rich in dew,
Amang its native briers sae coy,
How sune it tines its scent and hue,
When pu'd and worn a common toy!
Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide,
Tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile,
And sune thou shalt be thrown aside,
Like onie common weed, an' vile.
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