In ‘The Charms of Lovely Davies’ he says:
Each eye it cheers when she appears,
Like Phœbus in the morning,
When past the shower, and ev’ry flower
The garden is adorning.
The last three poems from which quotations have been made were written about two ladies whose lovers had been untrue to them: the first about Miss Kennedy, a member of one of the leading Ayrshire families; the other two about Miss Davies, a relative of the Glenriddell family.
In a letter to Miss Davies he said:
‘Woman is the blood-royal of life; let there be slight degrees of precedency among them, but let them all be sacred. Whether this last sentiment be right or wrong, I am not accountable; it is an original component feature of my mind.’
Burns was not in love with either Miss Kennedy or Miss Davies, but he explains the writing of the songs to Miss Davies, in a letter enclosing ‘Bonnie Wee Thing,’ by saying, ‘When I meet a person of my own heart I positively can no more desist from rhyming on impulse than an Æolian harp can refuse its tones to the streaming air.’
One of his most beautiful poems is ‘The Posie,’ which he planned to pull for his ‘Ain dear May.’
The primrose I will pu’, the firstling o’ the year,
And I will pu’ the pink, the emblem o’ my dear,
For she’s the pink o’ womankind, and blooms without a peer.
I’ll pu’ the budding rose, when Phœbus peeps in view,
For it’s like a baumy kiss o’ her sweet, bonnie mou’;
The hyacinth’s for constancy, wi’ its unchanging blue.
The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,
And in her lovely bosom I’ll place the lily there;
The daisy’s for simplicity and unaffected air.
The woodbine I will pu’, when the e’ening star is near,
And the diamond draps o’ dew shall be her een sae clear;
The violet’s for modesty, which weel she fa’s to wear.
I’ll tie the posie round wi’ the silken band o’ luve,
And I’ll place it in her breast, and I’ll swear by a’ above
That to my latest draught o’ life the band shall ne’er remove,
And this will be a posie to my ain dear May.
In ‘Lovely Polly Stewart’ he says:
O lovely Polly Stewart,
O charming Polly Stewart,
There’s ne’er a flower that blooms in May
That’s half so fair as thou art.
The flower it blaws, it fades, it fa’s,
And art can ne’er renew it;
But worth and truth, eternal youth
Will gie to Polly Stewart.