O Mary, at thy window be! <br /> It is the wish'd the trysted hour. <br />Those smiles and glances let me see, <br /> That makes the miser's treasure poor. <br />How blythely wad I bide the stoure, <br /> A weary slave frae sun to sun, <br />Could I the rich reward secure -- <br /> The lovely Mary Morison! <br /> <br />Yestreen, when to the trembling string <br /> The dance gaed thro the lighted ha', <br />To thee my fancy took its wing, <br /> I sat, but neither heard or saw: <br />Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, <br /> And yon the toast of a'the town, <br />I sigh'd, and said amang them a' -- <br /> "Ye are na Mary Morison!" <br /> <br />O, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace <br /> Wha for thy sake wad gladly die? <br />Or canst thou break that heart of his <br /> Whase only faut is loving thee? <br />If love for love thou wilt na gie, <br /> At least be pity to me shown: <br />A thought ungentle canna be <br /> The thought o' Mary Morison.<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mary-morison/
