Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс)

* * *

O WERE my love yon lilac fair,
  Wi’ purple blossoms to the spring;
And I, a bird to shelter there,
  When wearied on my little wing;

How I wad mourn, when it was torn
  By autumn wild, and winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
  When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d.

o gin my love were yon red rose
  That grows upon the castle wa’,
And I mysel’ a drap o’ dew,
  Into her bonnie breast to fa’!

Oh, there beyond expression blest,
  I’d feast on beauty a’ the night;
Seal’d on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
  Till fley’d awa’ by Phoebus’ light.

1. I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen
2. Blythe Was She
3. The Banks of Nith (THE THAMES flows proudly to the sea)
4. The Flowery Banks of Cree
5. Stay My Charmer

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2330

Последние стихотворения

To English version