The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/My Chloris
MY CHLORIS.
TUNE—'MY LODGING IS ON THE COLD GROUND.'
My Chloris, mark how green the groves,The primrose banks how fair:The balmy gales awake the flowers,And wave thy flaxen hair.
The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,And o'er the cottage sings:For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,To shepherds as to kings.
Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' stringIn lordly lighted ha';The shepherd stops his simple reed,Blithe, in the birken shaw.
The princely revel may surveyOur rustic dance wi' scorn;But are their hearts as light as oursBeneath the milk-white thorn?
The shepherd, in the flowery glen,In shepherd's phrase will woo:The courtier tells a finer tale,But is his heart as true?
These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deckThat spotless breast o' thine:The courtiers' gems may witness love―But 'tis na love like mine.