Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o' departed joys,

Departed never to return!

Aft have I rov'd by bonnie Doon,

To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart i' pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree:
And my fause luver stole my rose,
But, ah! He left the thorn wi' me.

AFTON WATER

ROBERT BURNS

FLOW gently, sweet Afton! Among thy green braes

Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;

My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream —

Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds through the glen;
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den;
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear;
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills,
Far marked with the courses of clear, winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,

My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.

tream, Afton, how lovely it glides, y the cot where my Mary resides; thy waters her snowy feet lave, sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave.

sweet Afton! Among thy green braes, sweet river, the theme of my lays! sleep by thy murmuring stream; sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY

ROBERT BURNS

EE modest, crimson-tippèd flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem:

pare thee now is past my pow'r,
Thou bonnie gem.

It's no thy neebor sweet, bonnie lark, companion meet!

ling thee 'mang the dewy weet,1 Wi' spreckl'd breast,

en upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.

1 weet: Wet.

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
Amid the storm,

Scarce rear'd above the parent earth
Thy tender form.

The flaunting flowers our gardens yield,
High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield;
But thou, beneath the random bield1

O' clod or stane,

Adorns the histie 2 stibble field,
Unseen, alane.

There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise;

But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!

Such is the fate of artless maid,
Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade!
By love's simplicity betrayed,
And guileless trust,

Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid
Low i' the dust.

Such is the fate of simple bard,

On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd!
Unskillful he to note the card

Of prudent lore,

1 bield: Shelter.

2 histie: Barren.

ong with wants and woes has striv'n,
man pride or cunning driv'n
To mis'ry's brink,

renched of every stay but Heav'n,
He, ruin'd, sink!

hou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, ate is thine no distant date; Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom,

rushed beneath the furrow's weight Shall be thy doom.

TO A MOUSE

ROBERT BURNS

EE, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! need na start awa sae hasty,

Wi' bickering brattle; 1

be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murd'ring pattle! 2

ruly sorry man's dominion

broken nature's social union,

justifies that ill opinion,

Which makes thee startle

A rattling noise.

2 pattle: A plow staff.

At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
An' fellow mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? Poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen1icker 2 in a thrave 3

'S a sma' request,

I'll get a blessing wi' the lave
And never mis't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin;
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!

An' bleak December's winds ensuin',
Baith snell and keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin' fast,

An' cozie here, beneath the blast,

Thou thought to dwell,

Till, crash! The cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,

To thole the winter's sleety dribble,

An' cranreuch

cauld!

1 daimen: Occasional.

8 thrave: Shock of sheaves of grain.

2 icker: Heap of grain. 4 cranreuch: Frosty.