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. Lines Written under the Picture of Miss Burns
2. The Lass of Ecclefechan
3. By Allan Stream
4. Cock Up Your Beaver
5. Sae Flaxen Were

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