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　　On A Bank Of Flowers

　　On a bank of flowers, in a summer day,

　　For summer lightly drest,

　　The youthful, blooming Nelly lay,

　　With love and sleep opprest;

　　When Willie, wand'ring thro' the wood,

　　Who for her favour oft had sued;

　　He gaz'd, he wish'd

　　He fear'd, he blush'd,

　　And trembled where he stood.

　　Her closed eyes, like weapons sheath'd,

　　Were seal'd in soft repose;

　　Her lip, still as she fragrant breath'd,

　　It richer dyed the rose;

　　The springing lilies, sweetly prest,

　　Wild-wanton kissed her rival breast;

　　He gaz'd, he wish'd,

　　He mear'd, he blush'd,

　　His bosom ill at rest.

　　Her robes, light-waving in the breeze,

　　Her tender limbs embrace;

　　Her lovely form, her native ease,

　　All harmony and grace;

　　Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,

　　A faltering, ardent kiss he stole;

　　He gaz'd, he wish'd,

　　He fear'd, he blush'd,

　　And sigh'd his very soul.

　　As flies the partridge from the brake,

　　On fear-inspired wings,

　　So Nelly, starting, half-awake,

　　Away affrighted springs;

　　But Willie follow'd—as he should,

　　He overtook her in the wood;

　　He vow'd, he pray'd,

　　He found the maid

　　Forgiving all, and good. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns