Her Flowing Locks (Poem by Robert Burns)

Old Poem

Her Flowing Locks
By Robert Burns

Her flowing locks, the raven’s wing,
Adown her neck and bosom hing;
How sweet unto that breast to cling,
    And round that neck entwine her!
Her lips are roses wat wi’ dew,
O, what a feast her bonnie mou’!
Her cheeks a mair celestial hue,
    A crimson still diviner.

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