Robert Burns

O were my Love yon Lilac fair

O WERE my Love yon lilac fair,
    Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
    When wearied on my little wing;
How I wad mourn when it was torn
    By autumn wild and winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing
    When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.

O gin my Love were yon red rose
    That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel a drap o' dew,
    Into her bonnie breast to fa';
O there, beyond expression blest,
    I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
    Till fley'd awa' by Phoebus' light.