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Poem by Robert Burns


The Flowery Banks of Cree


HERE is the glen, and here the bower,
  All underneath the birchen shade;
The village-bell has tolled the hour,
  O, what can stay my lovely maid?

T is not Marias whispering call,
  T is but the balmy-breathing gale,
Mixed with some warblers dying fall,
  The dewy star of eve to hail.

It is Marias voice I hear!
  So calls the woodlark in the grove,
His little faithful mate to cheer;
  At once t is music and t is love.

And art thou come? and art thou true?
  O, welcome, dear, to love and me!
And let us all our vows renew,
  Along the flowery banks of Cree.



Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. The Banks of Nith (THE THAMES flows proudly to the sea)
  2. Farewell to Ballochmyle
  3. Gala Water
  4. Theniel Menzies Bonnie Mary
  5. The Carles of Dysart


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