O Meikle thinks my luve o' my beauty, And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin; But little thinks my luve I ken brawlie My tocher's the jewel has charms for him. It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree, It's a' for the hinny he'll cherish the bee, My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller, He canna hae luve to spare for me. Your proffer o' luve's an airle-penny, My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy; But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin', Sae ye wi anither your fortune may try. Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood, Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree, Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread, And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae nor me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOONLIT APPLES by JOHN DRINKWATER ON A BUST OF DANTE by THOMAS WILLIAM PARSONS BIVOUAC ON A MOUNTAIN SIDE by WALT WHITMAN THE COWBOY'S DANCE SONG by JAMES BARTON ADAMS SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 11. THE GREEK POET IN ENGLAND by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE NAME OF LOVE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |