Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
428 . SongPhillis the Queen o the fair
A
To mark the sweet flowers as they spring;
Adown winding Nith I did wander,
Of Phillis to muse and to sing.
They never wi’ her can compare, Whaever has met wi’ my Phillis, Has met wi’ the queen o’ the fair. So artless, so simple, so wild; Thou emblem, said I, o’ my Phillis— For she is Simplicity’s child. Awa’ wi’ your belles, &c. Her sweet balmy lip when ’tis prest: How fair and how pure is the lily! But fairer and purer her breast. Awa’ wi’ your belles, &c. They ne’er wi’ my Phillis can vie: Her breath is the breath of the woodbine, Its dew-drop o’ diamond her eye. Awa’ wi’ your belles, &c. That wakes thro’ the green-spreading grove When Phœbus peeps over the mountains, On music, and pleasure, and love. Awa’ wi’ your belles, &c. The bloom of a fine summer’s day; While worth in the mind o’ my Phillis, Will flourish without a decay. Awa’ wi’ your belles, &c.