Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west; For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best. There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And monie a hill's between; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fir; I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air; There's not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green; There's not a bonnie bird that sings, But minds me of my Jean. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DAY DREAM by EMILY JANE BRONTE EPISTLE TO SIR ROBERT WALPOLE (1) by HENRY FIELDING A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON UPON THE DEATH OF MY EVER CONSTANT FRIEND DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by HENRY KING (1592-1669) AT THE FIRESIDE by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE TERRORS OF GUILT by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |