Sleep'st thou, or wak’st thou, fairest creature? <br />Rosy morn now lifts his eye, <br />Numbering ilka bud which Nature <br />Waters wi’ the tears o’ joy. <br />Now, to the streaming fountain, <br />Or up the heathy mountain, <br />The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray; <br />In twining hazel bowers, <br />Its lay the linnet pours, <br />The laverock to the sky <br />Ascends, wi’ sangs o’ joy, <br />While the sun and thou arise to bless the day. <br /> <br /> <br />Phoebus gilding the brow of morning, <br />Banishes ilk darksome shade, <br />Nature, gladdening and adorning; <br />Such to me my lovely maid. <br />When frae my Chloris parted, <br />Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted, <br />The night’s gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o’ercast my sky: <br />But when she charms my sight, <br />In pride of Beauty’s light— <br />When thro’ my very heart <br />Her burning glories dart; <br />’Tis then—’tis then I wake to life and joy!<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lover-s-morning-salute-to-his-mistress/
