Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 489. Song—Behold, my love, how green the groves |
| | | | | Tune—“My lodging is on the cold ground.” |
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| BEHOLD, my love, how green the groves, | |
| The primrose banks how fair; | |
| The balmy gales awake the flowers, | |
| And wave thy flowing hair. | |
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| The lav’rock shuns the palace gay, | 5 |
| And o’er the cottage sings: | |
| For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween, | |
| To Shepherds as to Kings. | |
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| Let minstrels sweep the skilfu’ string, | |
| In lordly lighted ha’: | 10 |
| The Shepherd stops his simple reed, | |
| Blythe in the birken shaw. | |
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| The Princely revel may survey | |
| Our rustic dance wi’ scorn; | |
| But are their hearts as light as ours, | 15 |
| Beneath the milk-white thorn! | |
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| The shepherd, in the flowery glen; | |
| In shepherd’s phrase, will woo: | |
| The courtier tells a finer tale, | |
| But is his heart as true! | 20 |
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| These wild-wood flowers I’ve pu’d, to deck | |
| That spotless breast o’ thine: | |
| The courtiers’ gems may witness love, | |
| But, ’tis na love like mine. | |
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