Robert Burns (Ðîáåðò Á¸ðíñ)

* * *

SWEET fa’s the eve on Craigie-burn,
  And blythe awakes the morrow,
But a’ the pride o’ spring’s return
  Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

I see the flowers and spreading trees,
  I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
  And care his bosom wringing?

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
  Yet dare na for your anger;
But secret love will break my heart,
  If I conceal it langer.

If thou refuse to pity me,
  If thou shalt love anither,
When yon green leaves fa’ frae the tree,
  Around my grave they’ll wither.

1. Epitaph on Miss Jessy Lewars
2. Where are the Joys
3. Frae the Friends and Land I Love
4. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
5. Tibbie Dunbar

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