Robert Burns

Banks of Devon

How pleasant the banks of the clear-winding Devon,
  	With green-spreading bushes, and flowers blooming fair!
But the bonniest flower on the banks of the Devon
  	Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.

Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower,
  	In the gay rosy morn as it bathes in the dew!
And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower,
  	That steals on the evening each leaf to renew.

O, spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes,
  	With chill hoary wing as ye usher the dawn!
And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes
  	The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn!

Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies,
  	And England triumphant display her proud rose;
A fairer than either adorns the green valleys
  	Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows.