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. The Rantin’ Dog the Daddie O’t
2. Could Aught of Song
3. Nithsdale’s Welcome Hame
4. Behold the Hour
5. Mark Yonder Pomp

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