Poems and Songs of Robert Burnsby Robert Burns

To Alex. Cunningham, ESQ., Writer

The Fete Champetre

Song.—Anna, Thy Charms

     Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,
     And waste my soul with care;
     But ah! how bootless to admire,
     When fated to despair!

     Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,
     To hope may be forgiven;
     For sure 'twere impious to despair
     So much in sight of heaven.

Contents

To Alex. Cunningham, ESQ., Writer

The Fete Champetre