Page:The Hundred Best Poems (lyrical) in the English language - second series.djvu/55

ROBERT BURNS.

'Twas not her golden ringlets bright,
Her lips like roses wat wi' dew,
Her heaving bosom lily-white:
It was her een sae bonie blue.

II.

She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd,

She charm'd my soul I wist na how;
And ay the stound, the deadly wound,
Cam frae her een sae bonie blue.
But "spare to speak, and spare to speed"—
She'll aiblins listen to my vow:
Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead
To her twa een sae bonie blue.

Chorus.

Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,

Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom
Lest my jewel it should tine.

I.

WISHFULLY I look and languish

In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.

II.

Wit and Grace and Love and Beauty

In ae constellation shine!

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