English Song
A song by Robert Burns, written in 1795.
Forlorn, my Love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe
At which I most repine, Love.
O wert thou, Love, but near me,
But near, near, near me;
How kindly thou wouldst chear me,
And mingle sighs with mine, Love.
Around me scowls a wintry sky,
Blasting each bud of hope and joy;
And shelter, shade, nor home have I,
Save in these arms of thine, Love.
O wert thou, Love, but near me,
But near, near, near me;
How kindly thou wouldst chear me,
And mingle sighs with mine, Love.
Cold, alter'd friend with cruel art
Poisoning fell Misfortune's dart;
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, Love.
O wert thou, Love, but near me,
But near, near, near me;
How kindly thou wouldst chear me,
And mingle sighs with mine, Love.
But , dreary tho' the moments fleet,
O let me think we yet shall meet!
That only ray of solace sweet
Can on thy Chloris shine, Love!
O wert thou, Love, but near me,
But near, near, near me;
How kindly thou wouldst chear me,
And mingle sighs with mine, Love.
Duration:
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Featured in...
Works read by Stella Gonet—The works of Robert Burns
All her recordings from the 250th anniversary project.
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