Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o care? Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons through the flowering thorn; Thou minds me o departed joys, Departed -- never to return. Thou'lt break my heart, thou bonnie bird, That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wistna o' my fate. Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o' its luve, And, fondly, sae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pou'd a rose, Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause luver stole my rose, But ah! he left the thorn wi' me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAPPER KAPLINSKI AT THE NORTH SIDE CUE CLUB by HAYDEN CARRUTH A PORTRAIT OF MY ROOF by JAMES GALVIN IN THE JEWISH SYNAGOGUE AT NEWPORT by EMMA LAZARUS THE BOSTON ATHENAEUM by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 1 by CLARENCE MAJOR SURFACES AND MASKS; 6 by CLARENCE MAJOR |