Her flowing locks, the raven's wing.
Adown her neck & boson hing;
How sweet unto that breast to cling,
And round that neck intwine her!
Her lips are roses wat wi' dew,
O, what a feast, her bonie mou!
Her cheeks a mair celestial hue,
A crimson still diviner. -
Adown her neck & boson hing;
How sweet unto that breast to cling,
And round that neck intwine her!
Her lips are roses wat wi' dew,
O, what a feast, her bonie mou!
Her cheeks a mair celestial hue,
A crimson still diviner. -
Key details
- Archive number
- NTS/02/25/BRN/02/129
- Alt. number
- 3.6295
- On display
- No
- Creator
- Burns, Robert (Author)
- Archive number
- NTS/02/25/BRN/02/129
- Alt. number
- 3.6295
- On display
- No
- Creator
- Burns, Robert (Author)
Description
Her flowing locks, Begins: "Her flowing locks, the raven's wing". 2 four-line verses.
Archive information
Themes
Hierarchy
-
Robert Burns, collection of poems and songs
(
a sub-fonds is a subdivision in the archival material)
- Her flowing locks