Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
| |
| 228. To Alex. Cunningham, Esq., Writer, Edinburgh |
| | | | | ELLISLAND, NITHSDALE, July 27th, 1788. |
| |
| |
| MY godlike friend—nay, do not stare, | |
| You think the phrase is odd-like; | |
| But “God is love,” the saints declare, | |
| Then surely thou art god-like. | |
| |
| And is thy ardour still the same? | 5 |
| And kindled still at ANNA? | |
| Others may boast a partial flame, | |
| But thou art a volcano! | |
| |
| Ev’n Wedlock asks not love beyond | |
| Death’s tie-dissolving portal; | 10 |
| But thou, omnipotently fond, | |
| May’st promise love immortal! | |
| |
| Thy wounds such healing powers defy, | |
| Such symptoms dire attend them, | |
| That last great antihectic try— | 15 |
| MARRIAGE perhaps may mend them. | |
| |
| Sweet Anna has an air-a grace, | |
| Divine, magnetic, touching: | |
| She talks, she charms-but who can trace | |
The process of bewitching?
· · · · · · | 20 |
| |
|
|
|
