Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 364. Song—I do confess thou art sae fair |
| | | | | Alteration of an Old Poem. |
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| I DO confess thou art sae fair, | |
| I was been o’er the lugs in luve, | |
| Had I na found the slightest prayer | |
| That lips could speak thy heart could muve. | |
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| I do confess thee sweet, but find | 5 |
| Thou art so thriftless o’ thy sweets, | |
| Thy favours are the silly wind | |
| That kisses ilka thing it meets. | |
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| See yonder rosebud, rich in dew, | |
| Amang its native briers sae coy; | 10 |
| How sune it tines its scent and hue, | |
| When pu’d and worn a common toy. | |
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| Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide, | |
| Tho’ thou may gaily bloom awhile; | |
| And sune thou shalt be thrown aside, | 15 |
| Like ony common weed and vile. | |
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