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Delia: An Ode

by Robert Burns, 1789

Fair the face of orient day,
  Fair the tints of op'ning rose;
But fairer still my Delia dawns,
  More lovely far her beauty shows.

Sweet the lark's wild warbled lay,
  Sweet the tinkling rill to hear;
But, Delia, more delightful still,
  Steal thine accents on mine ear.

The flower-enamour'd busy bee
  The rosy banquet loves to sip;
Sweet the streamlet's limpid lapse
  To the sun-brown'd Arab's lip.

But, Delia, on thy balmy lips
  Let me, no vagrant insect, rove;
O let me steal one liquid kiss,
  For Oh! my soul is parch'd with love.

Published in Poems and Songs of Robert Burns

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.