 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
PHILLIS THE FAIR
I
While larks with little wingFann'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
Rosebuds bent the dewy spray;
‘Such thy bloom,’ did I say—
‘Phillis the fair!’
III
Down in a shady walkDoves 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!
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |