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353. Poem on Sensibility

 SENSIBILITY, how charming,
 Dearest Nancy, thou canst tell;
But distress, with horrors arming,
 Thou alas! hast known too well!

Fairest flower, behold the lily
 Blooming in the sunny ray:
Let the blast sweep o’er the valley,
 See it prostrate in the clay.
Hear the wood lark charm the forest, Telling o’er his little joys; But alas! a prey the surest To each pirate of the skies.
Dearly bought the hidden treasure Finer feelings can bestow: Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.

Poem by Robert Burns
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