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Song—Phillis the Fair

by Robert Burns, 1793

While larks, with little wing,
  Fann'd the pure air,
Tasting the breathing Spring,
  Forth i did fare:
Gay the sun's golden eye
Peep'd o'er the mountains high;
Such thy morn! did I cry,
  Phillis the fair.

In each bird's careless song,
  Glad i did share;
While yon wild-flowers among,
  Chance led me there!
Sweet to the op'ning day,
Rosebuds bent the dewy spray;
Such thy bloom! did I say,
  Phillis the fair.

Down in a shady walk,
  Doves cooing were;
I mark'd the cruel hawk
  Caught in a snare:
So kind may fortune be,
Such make his destiny,
He who would injure thee,
  Phillis the fair.

Published in Poems and Songs of Robert Burns
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