Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс)

Ah, Chloris

AH, Chloris, since it may na be,
  That thou of love wilt hear;
If from the lover thou maun flee,
  Yet let the friend be dear.

Altho’ I love my Chloris mair
  Than ever tongue could tell;
My passion I will ne’er declare,
  I’ll say I wish thee well:

Tho’ a’ my daily care thou art,
  And a’ my nightly dream,
I’ll hide the struggle in my heart,
  And say it is esteem.

1. I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen
2. Blythe Was She
3. Farewell to Ballochmyle
4. Lines Written under the Picture of Miss Burns
5. On a Bank of Flowers

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