Poem by Robert Burns

Ah, Chloris

AH, Chloris, since it may na be,
  That thou of love wilt hear;
If from the lover thou maun flee,
  Yet let the friend be dear.

Altho’ I love my Chloris mair
  Than ever tongue could tell;
My passion I will ne’er declare,
  I’ll say I wish thee well:

Tho’ a’ my daily care thou art,
  And a’ my nightly dream,
I’ll hide the struggle in my heart,
  And say it is esteem.

1. There’s News, Lasses
2. Scroggam
3. There’s a Youth in This City
4. Lines Written at Loudon Manse
5. To Alex Cunningham, Writer

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