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229. Song—Anna thy Charms

 ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire,
 And waste my soul with care;
But ah! how bootless to admire,
 When fated to despair!

Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,
 To hope may be forgiven;
For sure ’twere impious to despair
 So much in sight of heaven.

Poem by Robert Burns
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