It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face

It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face, Nor shape that I admire, Although thy beauty and thy grace Might weel awake desire.

Something, in ilka part o’ thee, To praise, to love, I find; But dear as is thy form to me, Still dearer is thy mind.

Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae, Nor stronger in my breast, Than if I canna mak thee sae, At least to see thee blest.

Content am I, if Heaven shall give But happiness to thee: And as wi’ thee I’d wish to live, For thee I’d bear to die.