Poem by Robert Burns

On a Request of Chloris

From a white-blossom’d sloe my dear Chloris requested
  	A sprig her fair breast to adorn;
No, by heavens! I exclaimed, let me perish if ever
  	I plant in that bosom a thorn!

1. Sleep’st Thou, or Wak’st Thou
2. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
3. Simmer’s a Pleasant Time
4. The Bonnie Wee Thing
5. Castle Gordon

Print

3448 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version