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The Poetry of Robert Burns

Edited by William Ernest Henley and Thomas F. Henderson
  
  

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PHILLIS THE FAIR

I

While larks with little wing
Fann'd the pure air,
Viewing the breathing Spring,
Forth I did fare.
Gay, the sun's golden eye
Peep'd o'er the mountains high;
‘Such thy bloom,’ did I cry—
‘Phillis the fair!’

II

In each bird's careless song,
Glad, I did share;
While yon wild flowers among,
Chance led me there.

40

Sweet to the opening day,
Rosebuds bent the dewy spray;
‘Such thy bloom,’ did I say—
‘Phillis the fair!’

III

Down in a shady walk
Doves cooing were;
I mark'd the cruel hawk
Caught in a snare.
So kind may Fortune be!
Such make his destiny,
He who would injure thee,
Phillis the fair!