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IOO TONE-POETRY OF ROBERT BURNS |
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No. 109. Where are the joys I hae met in the morning.
Tune : Saw ye my father! Scots Musical Museum, 1787, No. 76. |
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Where are the joys I hae met in the morning, That danc'd to the lark's early sang?
Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring At e'ening the wild woods amang?
Nae mair a-winding the course o' yon river And marking sweet flow'rets sae fair,
Nae mair I trace the light footsteps o' pleasure, But sorrow and sad sighing care.
Is it that Summer's forsaken our vallies,
And grim, surly Winter is near? No, no, the bees humming round the gay roses
Proclaim it the pride o' the year!
Fain would I hide what I fear to -discover, Yet lang, lang, too well hae I known :
A' that has caused the wreck in my bosom, Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone.
Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal, Not Hope dare a comfort bestow:
Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish, Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe. |
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