Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird
That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o' the happy days
When my fause* Luve was true.
Thou'll...

Poet: Robert Burns

Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon,
  How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
  And I sae weary, fu’ o’ care?

Thou ’lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
  That wantons through the flowering thorn;
Thou minds me o...

Poet: Robert Burns

The Heart has narrow Banks

It measures like the Sea

In mighty — unremitting Bass

And Blue Monotony


Till Hurricane bisect

And as itself discerns

Its insufficient Area

The Heart convulsive...

Poet: