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| WHAT beauties does Flora disclose! | |
| How sweet are her smiles upon Tweed! | |
| Yet Mary’s, still sweeter than those, | |
| Both nature and fancy exceed. | |
| No daisy, nor sweet blushing rose, | 5 |
| Not all the gay flowers of the field, | |
| Not Tweed, gliding gently through those, | |
| Such beauty and pleasure does yield. | |
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| The warblers are heard in the grove, | |
| The linnet, the lark, and the thrush; | 10 |
| The blackbird and sweet cooing dove | |
| With music enchant every bush, | |
| Come, let us go forth to the mead; | |
| Let us see how the primroses spring! | |
| We’ll lodge in some village on Tweed, | 15 |
| And love, while the feathered folk sing. | |
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| How does my love pass the long day? | |
| Does Mary not tend a few sheep? | |
| Do they never carelessly stray | |
| While happily she lies asleep? | 20 |
| Should Tweed’s murmurs lull her to rest, | |
| Kind nature indulging my bliss, | |
| To ease the soft pains of my breast | |
| I’d steal an ambrosial kiss. | |
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| ’Tis she does the virgin excel; | 25 |
| No beauty with her may compare; | |
| Love’s graces around her do dwell; | |
| She’s fairest where thousands are fair. | |
| Say, charmer, where do thy flocks stray? | |
| Oh, tell me at noon where they feed? | 30 |
| Shall I seek them on sweet-winding Tay, | |
| Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed? | |
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