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Robert Burns - To Mary In Heaven
Work rating: Medium

Thou lingering star, with less`ning ray,        
That lov`st to greet the early morn, 
Again thou usherast in the day        
My Mary from my soul was torn. 
O Mary, dear departed shade        
Where is thy place of blissful rest? 
See`st thou thy lover lowly laid?       
 Hear`st thou the groans that rend his breast?
   
That sacred hour can I forget? 
Can I forget the hallow`d grove 
Where, by the winding Ayr, we met,        
To live one day of parting love? 
Eternity cannot efface        
Those records dear of transports past, 
15Thy image at our last embrace—-        
Ah! little thought we `twas our last!
   
Ayr, gurgling, kiss`d his pebbled shore,       
 O`erhung with wild-woods, thickening green; 
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar, 
Twin`d amorous round the raptur`d scene; 
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest        
The birds sang love on every spray 
Till too, too soon, the glowing west,        
Proclaim`d the speed of winged day.
   
Still o`er these scenes my mem`ry wakes,        
And fondly broods with miser-care; 
Time but th` impression stronger makes,        
As streams their channels deeper wear. 
O Mary! dear departed shade! 30       
Where is thy place of blissful rest? 
See`st thou thy lover lowly laid?        
Hear`st thou the groans that rend his breast?
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