Sunday Poetry - Obsessions

I've chosen Robert Burns (picture from here) again today. Where would Scottish love poetry be without Burns? The young man in this poem seems quite languidly obsessed by his beloved, I imagine him sighing as he thinks about her & waits for her to notice his obsession.

O were I on Parnassus hill,
Or had o' Helicon my fill,
That I might catch poetic skill,
To sing how dear I love thee!
But Nith maun be my Muse's well,
My muse maun be thy bonie sel';
On Corsincon I'll glow'r and spell,
And write how dear I love thee!


Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay!
For a' the lee-lang simmer's day,
I couldna sing, I couldna say,
How much, how dear, I love thee.
I see thee dancing o'er the green-
Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean
Thy tempting lips, thy rouguish een, -
By Heaven and earth I love thee!


By night, by day, a-field, at hame,
The tholughts o' thee my breast inflame;
And ay I muse and sing thy name,
I only live to love thee.
Tho' I were doom'd to wander on,
Beyond the sea, beyond the sun;
Till my last, weary sand was run, -
Till then - and then I love thee!