It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face,
Nor shape that I admire,
Although thy beauty and thy grace
Might weel awake desire.
Something, in ilka part o’ thee,
To praise, to love, I find;
But dear as is thy form to me,
Still dearer is thy mind.
Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae,
Nor stronger in my breast,
Than if I canna mak thee sae,
At least to see thee blest.
Content am I, if Heaven shall give
But happiness to thee:
And as wi’ thee I’d wish to live,
For thee I’d bear to die.