Forlorn, My Love, No Comfort Here Poem by Robert Burns

Forlorn, My Love, No Comfort Here



FORLORN, my Love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
At which I most repine, Love.


Chorus.—O wert thou, Love, but near me!
But near, near, near me,
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
And mingle sighs with mine, Love.


Around me scowls a wintry sky,
Blasting each bud of hope and joy;
And shelter, shade, nor home have I;
Save in these arms of thine, Love.
O wert thou, &c.


Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,
To poison Fortune's ruthless dart—
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, Love.
O wert thou, &c.


But, dreary tho' the moments fleet,
O let me think we yet shall meet;
That only ray of solace sweet,
Can on thy Chloris shine, Love!
O wert thou, &c.

Saturday, October 25, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Robert Burns

Robert Burns

Ayrshire / Scotland
Close
Error Success