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　　Craigieburn Wood

　　Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn,

　　And blythe awakes the morrow;

　　But a' the pride o' Spring's return

　　Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

　　I see the flowers and spreading trees,

　　I hear the wild birds singing;

　　But what a weary wight can please,

　　And Care his bosom wringing!

　　Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,

　　Yet dare na for your anger;

　　But secret love will break my heart,

　　If I conceal it langer.

　　If thou refuse to pity me,

　　If thou shalt love another,

　　When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,

　　Around my grave they'll wither.

　　Versicles of 1795 Poems and Songs of Robert Burns