On Sensibility. To My Dear And Much Honoured Friend, Mrs. Dunlop, Of Dunlop.

A poem by Robert Burns

Sensibility how charming,
Thou, my friend, canst truly tell:
But distress with horrors arming,
Thou host also known too well.

Fairest flower, behold the lily,
Blooming in the sunny ray:
Let the blast sweep o'er the valley,
See it prostrate on the clay.

Hear the woodlark charm the forest,
Telling o'er his little joys:
Hapless bird! a prey the surest,
To each pirate of the skies.

Dearly bought, the hidden treasure,
Finer feeling can bestow;
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure,
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'On Sensibility. To My Dear And Much Honoured Friend, Mrs. Dunlop, Of Dunlop.' by Robert Burns

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy