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 alter’d friendship’s cruel part,
To poison fortune’s 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.

1. The Day Returns
2. Lines Written under the Picture of Miss Burns
3. Peg-A-Ramsey
4. My Wife’s a Winsome Wee Thing
5. Nithsdale’s Welcome Hame

Print

2904 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version