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?

1. Their Groves O’ sweet Myrtle
2. The Bonnie Wee Thing
3. As Down the Burn They Took Their Way
4. Gala Water
5. Stay My Charmer

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