Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/621

 ROBERT BURNS

And mouldering now in silent dust That heart that lo'cd me dearly!

But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary.

��516 O were my Love yon Lilac fair

OWERE my Love yon lilac fair, WV purple blossoms to the spring, And I a bird to shelter there,

When wearied on my little wing; How I wad mourn when it was torn But I wad sing on wanton wing

When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.

O gin my Love were yon red rose

That grows upon the castle wa', And I mysel a drap o' dew,

Into her bonnie breast to fa'; O there, beyond expression blest,

I'd feast on beauty a' the night; Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,

Till fley'd awa' by Phoebus' light.

��5/7 A Red, Red Rose

OMY Luve 's like a red, red rose That 's newly sprung in June: O my Luve 's like the melodic That 's sweetly play'd in tune!

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