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Poem by Robert Burns


Phillis the Fair


WHILE larks with little wing
  Fannd the pure air,
Tasting the breathing spring,
  Forth I did fare:
Gay the suns golden eye
Peepd oer the mountains high;
Such thy morn! did I cry,
  Phillis the fair.

In each birds careless song
  Glad did I share;
While you wild flowers among,
  Chance led me there:
Sweet to the opening day,
Rosebuds bent the dewy spray;
Such thy bloom! did I say,
  Phillis the fair.

Down in a shady walk,
  Doves cooing were,
I markd the cruel hawk
  Caught in a snare:
So kind may Fortune be,
Such make his destiny,
He who would injure thee,
  Phillis the fair.



                      Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Theres News, Lasses
  2. Scroggam
  3. Theres a Youth in This City
  4. Lines Written at Loudon Manse
  5. To Alex Cunningham, Writer


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