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76 |
TONE-POETRY OF ROBERT BURNS |
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No. 77. Your friendship much can make me blest.
Tune: Banks of Spey Scots Musical Museum, 1788, No. 186. |
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Your friendship much can make me blest—
O, why that bliss destroy? Why urge the only, one request
You know I will deny? Your thought, if Love must harbour there,
Conceal it in that thought, Nor cause me from my bosom tear
The very friend I sought. |
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No. 78. Thine am I, my faithful fair. |
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Tune : The Quakers
Thine am I, my faithful fair,
Thine my lovely Nancy ! Every pulse along my veins,
Ev'ry roving fancy! To thy bosom lay my heart
There to throb and languish : Tho' despair had wrung its core.
That would heal its anguish. |
Wife (see No. 40).
Take away those rosy lips
Rich with balmy treasure ! Turn away thine eyes of love,
Lest I die with pleasure ! What is life when wanting love ?
Night without a morning: Love's the cloudless summer sun,
Nature gay adorning. |
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