Carigieburn Wood

Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn,
And blythe awakens the morrow,
But a' the pride o' spring's return
Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

I see the flowers and spreading trees,
I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
And care his bosom wringing?

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet darena for your anger'
But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer.

If thou refuse to pity me,
If thou shalt love anither,
When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
Around my grave they'll wither.

by Robert Burns

Comments (6)

I know someone couldna a cared less for his anger.
He knew how to write and bare his heart. The rhythm is so there, pulsing in every line.... like a heartbeat
Beautifully written poem......
An astounding poem to show the hovering and grief of losing his love.Love is nature here and its lack is explained in a striking manner.
I see the flowers! ! And the ways opf nature. Thanks for sharing.
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