Address To The Woodlark |
Robert Burns, 1795
O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay, Nor quit for me the trembling spray, A hapless lover courts thy lay, Thy soothing, fond complaining. Again, again that tender part, That I may catch thy melting art; For surely that wad touch her heart Wha kills me wi' disdaining. | 2. Say, was thy little mate unkind, And heard thee as the careless wind? Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd, Sic notes o' woe could wauken! Thou tells o' never-ending care; O'speechless grief, and dark despair: For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair, Or my poor heart is broken! |