I’ve chosen Robert Burns (picture from here) again today. Where would Scottish love poetry be without Burns? The young man in this poem seems quite languidly obsessed by his beloved, I imagine him sighing as he thinks about her & waits for her to notice his obsession.
O were I on Parnassus hill,
Or had o’ Helicon my fill,
That I might catch poetic skill,
To sing how dear I love thee!
But Nith maun be my Muse’s well,
My muse maun be thy bonie sel’;
On Corsincon I’ll glow’r and spell,
And write how dear I love thee!
Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay!
For a’ the lee-lang simmer’s day,
I couldna sing, I couldna say,
How much, how dear, I love thee.
I see thee dancing o’er the green-
Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean
Thy tempting lips, thy rouguish een, –
By Heaven and earth I love thee!
By night, by day, a-field, at hame,
The tholughts o’ thee my breast inflame;
And ay I muse and sing thy name,
I only live to love thee.
Tho’ I were doom’d to wander on,
Beyond the sea, beyond the sun;
Till my last, weary sand was run, –
Till then – and then I love thee!