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Home  »  The Poems and Songs  »  470 . Song—She says she loes me best of a’

Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

470 . Song—She says she loes me best of a’

SAE flaxen were her ringlets,

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’.

Like harmony her motion,

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’.

Let others love the city,

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’.