English poem
Ye Banks And Braes
by Robert Burns
Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu’ o’ care?
Thou’lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro’ the flowering thorn: Thou minds me o’ departed joys, Departed never to return.
Aft hae I rov’d by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o’ its love, And fondly sae did I o’ mine.
Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose, Fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause lover stole my rose, But ah! he left the thorn wi’ me.
More by Robert Burns
- Written On A Pane Of Glass, In The Inn At Moffat.
- Written On The Blank Leaf Of A Book, Presented
- Written With A Pencil, Over The Chimney-Piece, In The Parlour Of The Inn At Kenmore, Taymouth.
- Written With A Pencil, Standing By The Fall Of Fyers, Near Loch-Ness
- Ye hae Lien Wrang, Lassie
- Ye Jacobites By Name.
- Yon Wild Mossy Mountains.
- Young Highland Rover