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Poem on Sensibility

by Robert Burns, 1791

Sensibility, how charming,
  Dearest Nancy, thou canst tell;
But distress, with horrors arming,
  Thou alas! hast known too well!

Fairest flower, behold the lily
  Blooming in the sunny ray:
Let the blast sweep o'er the valley,
  See it prostrate in the clay.

Hear the wood lark charm the forest,
  Telling o'er his little joys;
But alas! a prey the surest
  To each pirate of the skies.

Dearly bought the hidden treasure
  Finer feelings can bestow:
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
  Thrill the deepest notes of woe.

Published in Poems and Songs of Robert Burns
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