English poem
To Mary.
by Robert Burns
Tune - "Could aught of song." I. Could aught of song declare my pains, Could artful numbers move thee, The muse should tell, in labour'd strains, O Mary, how I love thee! They who but feign a wounded heart May teach the lyre to languish; But what avails the pride of art, When wastes the soul with anguish? II. Then let the sudden bursting sigh The heart-felt pang discover; And in the keen, yet tender eye, O read th' imploring lover. For well I know thy gentle mind Disdains art's gay disguising; Beyond what Fancy e'er refin'd, The voice of nature prizing.
More by Robert Burns
- To John Taylor.
- To Mary Campbell.
- To Mary In Heaven
- To Mary In Heaven.
- To Miss Cruikshank, A Very Young Lady. Written On The Blank Leaf Of A Book, Presented To Her By The Author.
- To Miss Jessy Lewars, Dumfries. With Johnson'S 'Musical Museum.'
- To Miss Logan, With Beattie's Poems For A New Year'S Gift. Jan. 1, 1787.
- To Mr. M'Adam, Of Craigen-Gillan.