Poem by Robert Burns

On Sensibility

SENSIBILITY, how charming,
  Thou, my friend, canst truly tell;
But distress, with horrors arming,
  Thou hast also known too well!

Fairest flower, behold the lily,
  Blooming in the sunny ray:
Let the blast sweep o’er the valley,
  See it prostrate in the clay.

Hear the wood-lark charm the forest,
  Telling o’er his little joys;
Hapless bird! a prey the surest
  To each pirate of the skies.

Dearly bought the hidden treasure
  Finer feelings can bestow;
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
  Thrill the deepest notes of woe.

1. Fairest Maid on Devon Banks
2. The Highland Lassie
3. Weary Fa’ You, Duncan Gray
4. Farewell to Ballochmyle
5. Lines Written under the Picture of Miss Burns

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