Chloris.

Tune - "Caledonian Hunt's Delight."


I.

    Why, why tell thy lover,
        Bliss he never must enjoy:
    Why, why undeceive him,
        And give all his hopes the lie?

II.

    O why, while fancy raptured, slumbers,
        Chloris, Chloris all the theme,
    Why, why wouldst thou, cruel,
        Wake thy lover from his dream?

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

Halloween.[1]

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Banks Of Nith.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

To Mrs. Scott, Of Wauchope.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Toast.

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.

Ah, Chloris, Since It May Na Be.

Tune - "Major Graham."


I.

    Ah, Chloris, since it may na be,
        That thou of love wilt hear;
    If from the lover thou maun flee,
        Yet let the friend be dear.

II.

    Altho' I love my Chloris mair
        Than ever tongue could tell;
    My passion I will ne'er declare,
        I'll say, I wish thee well.

III.

    Tho' a' my daily care thou art,
        And a' my nightly dream,
    I'll hide the struggle in my heart,
        And say it is esteem.

Robert Burns

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

On Chloris Being Ill.

Tune - "Ay wakin', O."



I.

    Long, long the night,
        Heavy comes the morrow,
    While my soul's delight
        Is on her bed of sorrow.

    Can I cease to care?
        Can I cease to languish?
    While my darling fair
        Is on the couch of anguish?

II.

    Every hope is fled,
        Every fear is terror;
    Slumber even I dread,
        Every dream is horror.

III.

    Hear me, Pow'rs divine!
        Oh, in pity hear me!
    Take aught else of mine,
        But my Chloris spare me!
            Long, long the night,
                Heavy comes the morrow,
            While my soul's delight
                Is on her bed of sorrow.

Robert Burns

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

Fair Eliza.

A Gaelic Air.



I.

    Turn again, thou fair Eliza,
        Ae kind blink before we part,
    Rue on thy despairing lover!
        Canst thou break his faithfu' heart?
    Turn again, thou fair Eliza;
        If to love thy heart denies,
    For pity hide the cruel sentence
        Under friendship's kind disguise!

II.

    Thee, dear maid, hae I offended?
        The offence is loving thee:
    Canst thou wreck his peace for ever,
        Wha for time wad gladly die?
    While the life beats in my bosom,
        Thou shalt mix in ilka throe;
    Turn again, thou lovely maiden.
        Ae sweet smile on me bestow.

III.

    Not the bee upon the blossom,
        In the pride o' sunny no...

Robert Burns

The Lover's Morning Salute To His Mistress.

Tune - "Deil tak the Wars."


I.

    Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature?
            Rosy Morn now lifts his eye,
    Numbering ilka bud which nature
            Waters wi' the tears o' joy:
            Now through the leafy woods,
            And by the reeking floods,
    Wild nature's tenants freely, gladly stray;
            The lintwhite in his bower
            Chants o'er the breathing flower;
            The lav'rock to the sky
            Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,
    While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.

II.

    Phoebus gilding the brow o' morning,
            Banishes ilk darksome shade,
    Nature gladdening and adorning;
            Such to me my lovely maid.
            When ...

Robert Burns