MY PEGGY’S FACE.
Tune—“My Peggy’s Face.”
[Composed in honour of Miss Margaret Chalmers, afterwards Mrs. Lewis Hay, one of the wisest, and, it is said, the wittiest of all the poet’s lady correspondents. Burns, in the note in which he communicated it to Johnson, said he had a strong private reason for wishing it to appear in the second volume of the Museum.]
I.
My Peggy’s face, my Peggy’s form,
The frost of hermit age might warm;
My Peggy’s worth, my Peggy’s mind,
Might charm the first of human kind.
I love my Peggy’s angel air,
Her face so truly, heav’nly fair,
Her native grace so void of art,
But I adore my Peggy’s heart.
II.
The lily’s hue, the rose’s dye,
The kindling lustre of an eye;
Who but owns their magic sway?
Who but knows they all decay!
The tender thrill, the pitying tear,
The gen’rous purpose, nobly dear,
The gentle look, that rage disarms—
These are all immortal charms.