Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 552. Complimentary versicles to Jessie Lewars |
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THE TOAST
FILL me with the rosy wine, | |
| Call a toast, a toast divine: | |
| Giveth me Poet’s darling flame, | |
| Lovely Jessie be her name; | |
| Then thou mayest freely boast, | 5 |
| Thou hast given a peerless toast. | |
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THE MENAGERIE
Talk not to me of savages, | |
| From Afric’s burning sun; | |
| No savage e’er could rend my heart, | |
| As Jessie, thou hast done: | 10 |
| But Jessie’s lovely hand in mine, | |
| A mutual faith to plight, | |
| Not even to view the heavenly choir, | |
| Would be so blest a sight. | |
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JESSIE’S ILLNESS
Say, sages, what’s the charm on earth | 15 |
| Can turn Death’s dart aside! | |
| It is not purity and worth, | |
| Else Jessie had not died. | |
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ON HER RECOVERY
But rarely seen since Nature’s birth, | |
| The natives of the sky; | 20 |
| Yet still one seraph’s left on earth, | |
| For Jessie did not die. | |
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