On Chloris requesting a sprig of blossom’d thorn by Robert Burns

FROM the white-blossom’d sloe my dear Chloris requested
A sprig, her fair breast to adorn:
No, by Heavens! I exclaim’d, let me perish, if ever
I plant in that bosom a thorn!

by Robert Burns

Other poems by 'Robert Burns'

A Ballad

A Dirge

A Grace after Dinner

Willie brew’d a Peck o’ Maut

A Cantata

Sweet Afton

Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear

A Rose-bud by my Early Walk

The Farewell to the Brethren of St. James’s Lodge, Tarbolton

A Poet’s Welcome to his Love-Begotten Daughter

Search Poems
e.g. love, marriage, kids

Popular poems this week

In Silence We Left

The Lost Dances of Cranes

The Author to her Book

Summer Evening

The Lesson

A chilly Peace infests the Grass

To Mæcenas

You Fit Into Me

mr youse needn't be so spry..

Oh, honey of an hour