Carigieburn Wood
Robert Burns
Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn, And blythe awakens the morrow, But a' the pride o' spring's return Can yield me nocht but sorrow. I see the flowers and spreading trees, I hear the wild birds singing; But what a weary wight can please, And care his bosom wringing? Fain, fain would I my griefs impart, Yet darena for your anger' But secret love will break my heart, If I conceal it langer. If thou refuse to pity me, If thou shalt love anither, When yon green leaves fade frae the tree, Around my grave they'll wither.
Next 10 Poems
- Robert Burns : Comin Thro' The Rye
- Robert Burns : Coming Through The Rye
- Robert Burns : Cotter's Saturday Night, The
- Robert Burns : Death And Dying Words Of Poor Mailie, The
- Robert Burns : Despondency -- An Ode
- Robert Burns : Duncan Gray
- Robert Burns : Epitaph On Holy Willie
- Robert Burns : Fareweel To A'our Scottish Fame
- Robert Burns : First Six Verses Of The Ninetieth Psalm Versified, The
- Robert Burns : For A' That And A' That
Previous 10 Poems
- Robert Burns : Ca' The Yowes To The Knowes
- Robert Burns : Bonnie Lesley
- Robert Burns : Bonie Wee Thing, The
- Robert Burns : Bonie Peggy Alison
- Robert Burns : Birks Of Aberfeldie, The
- Robert Burns : Battle Of Sherramuir, The
- Robert Burns : Banks O' Doon, The
- Robert Burns : Auld Lang Syne
- Robert Burns : Auld Farmer's New-year-morning Salutation To His Auld Mare, Maggie On Giving Her The Accustomed Ripp Of Corn To Hansel In The New-year, The
- Robert Burns : Anna