Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
470 . SongShe says she loes me best of a
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Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o’er-arching
Twa laughing e’en o’ lovely 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’ bonie face,
When first that bonie face I saw;
And aye my Chloris’ dearest charm—
She says, she lo’es me best of a’.
Her pretty ankle is a spy, Betraying fair proportion, Wad make a saint forget the sky: Sae warming, sae charming, Her faultless form and gracefu’ air; Ilk feature—auld Nature Declar’d that she could do nae mair: Hers are the willing chains o’ love, By conquering Beauty’s sovereign law; And still my Chloris’ dearest charm— She says, she lo’es me best of a’. And gaudy show, at sunny noon; Gie me the lonely valley, The dewy eve and rising moon, Fair beaming, and streaming, Her silver light the boughs amang; While falling; recalling, The amorous thrush concludes his sang; There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove, By wimpling burn and leafy shaw, And hear my vows o’ truth and love, And say, thou lo’es me best of a’.