Poem by Robert Burns

* * *

WHY, why tell thy lover,
  Bliss he never must enjoy?
Why, why undeceive him,
  And give all his hopes the lie?

O why, while fancy raptured slumbers,
  Chloris, Chloris all the theme!
Why, why wouldst thou, cruel,
  Wake thy lover from his dream?

1. Blythe Was She
2. Lines Written under the Picture of Miss Burns
3. Lovely Davies
4. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
5. The Lass of Ecclefechan

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