Damon and Sylvia

Robert Burns (1759โ€“1796)

Yon wand'ring rill, that marks the hill,And glances o'er the brae, Sir:Slides by a bower where monie a flowerSheds fragrance on the day, Sir.

There Damon lay, with Sylvia gay:To love they thought nae crime, Sir;The wild-birds sang, the echoes rang,While Damon's heart beat time, Sir.