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Poem by Robert Burns


To Alex Cunningham, Esq., Writer


My godlike friend – nay, do not stare,
         You think the phrase is odd-like;
But God is love, the saints declare,
         Then surely thou art god-like.

And is thy ardour still the same?
         And kindled still at Anna?
Others may boast a partial flame,
         But thou art a volcano!

Ev’n Wedlock asks not love beyond
         Death’s tie-dissolving portal;
But thou, omnipotently fond,
         May’st promise love immortal!

Thy wounds such healing powers defy,
         Such symptoms dire attend them,
That last great antihectic try –
         Marriage perhaps may mend them.

Sweet Anna has an air – a grace,
         Divine, magnetic, touching:
She talks, she charms – but who can trace
         The process of bewitching?

Ellisland, Nithsdale, July 27th, 1788

Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Sleep’st Thou, or Wak’st Thou
  2. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
  3. Simmer’s a Pleasant Time
  4. Fairest Maid on Devon Banks
  5. The Bonnie Wee Thing


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