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Poem by Robert Burns

* * *

FORLORN, my love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe
  At which I most repine, love.

  O wert thou, love, but near me,
  But near, near, near me;
  How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
    And mingle sighs with mine, love!

Around me scowls a wintry sky,
That blasts each bud of hope and joy;
And shelter, shade, nor home have I,
  Save in those arms of thine, love.

Cold alterd friendships cruel part,
To poison fortunes ruthlees dart-
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
  And say that fate is mine, love.

But dreary tho the moments fleet,
O let me think we yet shall meet!
That only ray of solace sweet
  Can on thy Chloris shine, love.

Robert Burns

Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Tam Glen
  2. To John Taylor
  3. Epigram on a Noted Coxcomb
  4. The Selkirk Grace
  5. Fragment Now health forsakes that angel face

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