Tune - "Could aught of song."
I.
Could aught of song declare my pains,
Could artful numbers move thee,
The muse should tell, in labour'd strains,
O Mary, how I love thee!
They who but feign a wounded heart
May teach the lyre to languish;
But what avails the pride of art,
When wastes the soul with anguish?
II.
Then let the sudden bursting sigh
The heart-felt pang discover;
And in the keen, yet tender eye,
O read th' imploring lover.
For well I know thy gentle mind
Disdains art's gay disguising;
Beyond what Fancy e'er refin'd,
The voice of nature prizing.
To Mary.
Robert Burns
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Poem topics: nature, pride, voice, soul, tender, gentle, mind, discover, labour, teach, anguish, heart, love, song, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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Niraj Kumar : sweet poem