Poem by Robert Burns

* * *

IT is na, Jean, thy bonnie face,
  Nor shape that I admire,
Although thy beauty and thy grace
  Might weel awake desire.
Something, in ilka part o’ thee,
  To praise, to love, I find;
But dear as is thy form to me,
  Still dearer is thy mind.

Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae,
  Nor stronger in my breast,
Than if I canna mak thee sae,
  At least to see thee blest.
Content am I, if Heaven shall give
  But happiness to thee:
And as wi’ thee I’d wish to live,
  For thee I’d bear to die.

1. I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen
2. Blythe Was She
3. Farewell to Ballochmyle
4. Stay My Charmer
5. On a Bank of Flowers

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