No.65

THINE AM I

Robert Burns

1759-96

Thine am I, my faithful Fair,

Thine, my lovely Nancy;

Ev'ry 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.

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.

*wanting = lacking

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