I.
It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face,
Nor shape that I admire,
Altho’ thy beauty and thy grace
Might weel awake desire.
Something in ilka part o’ thee,
To praise, to love, I find;
But dear as is thy form to me,
Still dearer is thy mind.
II.
Nae mair ungen’rous wish I hae,
Nor stronger in my breast,
Than, if I canna mak thee sae,
at least to see thee blest.
Content am I, if heaven shall give
But happiness to thee:
And as wi’ thee I’d wish to live,
For thee I’d bear to die.
CIV.
WHEN I THINK ON THE HAPPY DAYS.
[These verses were in latter years expanded by Burns into a song, for the collection of Thomson: the song will be found in its place: the variations are worthy of preservation.]
I.
When I think on the happy days
I spent wi’ you, my dearie;
And now what lands between us lie,
How can I be but eerie!