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　　The Flowery Banks Of Cree

　　Here is the glen, and here the bower

　　All underneath the birchen shade;

　　The village-bell has told the hour,

　　O what can stay my lovely maid?

　　'Tis not Maria's whispering call;

　　'Tis but the balmy breathing gale,

　　Mixt with some warbler's dying fall,

　　The dewy star of eve to hail.

　　It is Maria's voice I hear;

　　So calls the woodlark in the grove,

　　His little, faithful mate to cheer;

　　At once 'tis music and 'tis love.

　　And art thou come! and art thou true!

　　O welcome dear to love and me!

　　And let us all our vows renew,

　　Along the flowery banks of Cree. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns