Poem by Robert Burns

* * *

IN vain would Prudence, with decorous sneer,
Point out a cens’ring world, and bid me fear;
Above that world on wings of love I rise,
I know its worst-and can that worst despise.
‘Wrong’d, injured, shunn’d, unpitied, unredrest,
The mock’d quotation of the scorner’s jest-’
Let Prudence’ direst bodements on me fall,
Clarinda, rich reward, o’erpays them all!

1. Canst Thou Leave Me Thus?
2. Address to General Dumourier
3. O Wha is She that Lo’es Me?
4. As Down the Burn They Took Their Way
5. The Cardin’ O’t

Print

5147 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version