Classic Poem

O! the rose is like her ruby lip,
And the lilly like her skin;
And her mouth like a faulded violet,
Wi' the scented breath within;
And her een are like yon bonnie flower
When the dew is in its cup;—
As the bee frae it its honey draws,
I love frae them maun sip.

O! her voice is like yon little bird's
That sits in the cherry-tree:
For the air o' the sky and the heart o' man
It fills wi' its melodie.
Her hand is soft as the downy peach
Upon yon branch that hings!
An' her hair its gloss sae rich has stown
Frae the bonnie blackbird's wings!

O' her smile is like the sun that shines
Upon yon fair wa'flower—
As the bonnie buds this plays among,
Her face that wanders o'er.
But a love-warm kiss o' her rosy mou'
Wi' naething can compare,—
Sae meikle o' bliss an' holiness
The craving heart might sair.

O! the garden flowers are fair an' pure—
The rose an' the lily too;
An' the wall-flower rich in nature's wealth—
An' the peeping violet blue;
O! bonnie as Heaven itsel', an' pure,
Are the flowers o' ilka kind;
But they ha'e na the womanly purity
O' my darling Jeanie's mind!