Chloe.

Air - "Daintie Davie."


I.

    It was the charming month of May,
    When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay,
    One morning, by the break of day,
        The youthful charming Chloe
    From peaceful slumber she arose,
    Girt on her mantle and her hose,
    And o'er the flowery mead she goes,
        The youthful charming Chloe.
            Lovely was she by the dawn,
                Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
            Tripping o'er the pearly lawn,
                The youthful charming Chloe.

II.

    The feather'd people you might see,
    Perch'd all around, on every tree,
    In notes of sweetest melody
        They hail the charming Chloe;
    Till painting gay the eastern skies,
    The glorious sun began to rise,
    Out-rivall'd by the radiant eyes
        Of youthful, charming Chloe.
            Lovely was she by the dawn,
                Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
            Tripping o'er the pearly lawn,
                The youthful, charming Chloe.

Robert Burns

Robert Burns, also known as Rabbie Burns, the Bard of Ayrshire, and various other names and epithets, was a Scottish poet and lyricist. He is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland and is celebrated worldwide. Born on January 25, 1759, in Alloway, he is best known for works such as 'Auld Lang Syne,' 'Scots Wha Hae,' and 'A Red, Red Rose.' He passed away on July 21, 1796, in Dumfries.

Robert Burns

To The Rev. John M'Math.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

My Nannie's Awa.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Rattlin', Roarin' Willie.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Wandering Willie. (First Version.)

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Chloris.

Air - "My lodging is on the cold ground."


I.

    My Chloris, mark how green the groves,
        The primrose banks how fair:
    The balmy gales awake the flowers,
        And wave thy flaxen hair.

II.

    The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
        And o'er the cottage sings;
    For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
        To shepherds as to kings

III.

    Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string
        In lordly lighted ha':
    The shepherd stops his simple reed,
        Blythe, in the birken shaw.

IV.

    The princely revel may survey
        Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
    But are their hearts as light as ours,
        Beneath the milk-white thorn?

V.

    ...

Robert Burns

To Chloe Jealous

Dear Chloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face;
Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl'd:
Prythee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaff says)
Let us e'en talk a little like folks of this world.

How canst thou presume, thou hast leave to destroy
The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keeping?
Those looks were design'd to inspire love and joy:
More ord'nary eyes may serve people for weeping.

To be vext at a trifle or two that I writ,
Your judgment at once, and my passion you wrong:
You take that for fact, which will scarce be found wit:
Odds life! must one swear to the truth of a song?

What I speak, my fair Chloe, and what I write, shows
The diff'rence there is betwixt nature and art:
I court others in verse; but I love thee in prose:
An...

Matthew Prior

The Wanton Chloe--A Pastoral

    Young Chloe looks sweet as the rose,
    And her love might be reckoned no less,
    But her bosom so freely bestows
    That all may a portion possess.
    Her smiles would be cheering to see,
    But so freely they're lavished abroad
    That each silly swain, like to me,
    Can boast what the wanton bestowed.

    Her looks and her kisses so free
    Are for all, like the rain and the sky;
    As the blossom love is to the bee,
    Each swain is as welcome as I.
    And though I my folly can see,
    Yet still must I love and adore,
    Though I know the love whispered to me
    Has been told to so many before.

    'T is sad that a bosom so fair,
    And soft lips so seemingly sweet,
    Should study false ways, to ensnare,
  ...

John Clare

She Says She Loves Me Best Of A'.

Tune - "Onagh's Waterfall."


I.

    Sae flaxen were her ringlets,
        Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
    Bewitchingly o'er-arching
        Twa laughin' een o' bonnie blue.
    Her smiling sae wyling,
        Wad make a wretch forget his woe;
    What pleasure, what treasure,
        Unto these rosy lips to grow:
    Such was my Chloris' bonnie face,
        When first her bonnie face I saw;
    And ay my Chloris' dearest charm,
        She says she lo'es me best of a'.

II.

    Like harmony her motion;
        Her pretty ankle is a spy,
    Betraying fair proportion,
        Wad mak a saint forget the sky.
    Sae warming, sae charming,
        Her faultless form and gracefu' air;
    Ilk feature -...

Robert Burns

Lovely Polly Stewart.

Tune - "Ye're welcome, Charlie Stewart."



I.

    O lovely Polly Stewart!
        O charming Polly Stewart!
    There's not a flower that blooms in May
        That's half so fair as thou art.
    The flower it blaws, it fades and fa's,
        And art can ne'er renew it;
    But worth and truth eternal youth
        Will give to Polly Stewart.

II.

    May he whose arms shall fauld thy charms
        Possess a leal and true heart;
    To him be given to ken the heaven
        He grasps in Polly Stewart.
    O lovely Polly Stewart!
        O charming Polly Stewart!
    There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May
        That's half so sweet as thou art.

Robert Burns

Dainty Davie.

I.

    Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
    To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers;
    And now comes in my happy hours,
        To wander wi' my Davie.
            Meet me on the warlock knowe,
                Dainty Davie, dainty Davie,
            There I'll spend the day wi' you,
                My ain dear dainty Davie.

II.

    The crystal waters round us fa',
    The merry birds are lovers a',
    The scented breezes round us blaw,
        A wandering wi' my Davie.

III.

    When purple morning starts the hare,
    To steal upon her early fare,
    Then thro' the dews I will repair,
        To meet my faithfu' Davie

IV.

    When day, expiring in the west,
    The curtain draws o' nature...

Robert Burns