“Not the bee upon the blossom,
In the pride o' sunny noon;
Not the little sporting fairy,
All beneath the simmer moon;
Not the poet, in the moment
Fancy lightens in his e'e,
Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture,
That thy presence gi'es to me.”

Last update June 3, 2021. History

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Robert Burns114

Scottish poet and lyricist 1759–1796

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“It makes no difference abroad,
The seasons fit the same,
The mornings blossom into noons,
And split their pods of flame.

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No dawn—no dusk—no proper time of day,
No warmth—no cheerfulness—no healthful ease,
No road, no street, no t' other side the way,
No comfortable feel in any member—
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!”

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No! http://www.poemhunter.com/p/m/poem.asp?poet=3153&poem=27392. <br class="br">1830s

“Not the bee upon the blossom,In the pride o' sunny noon;Not the little sporting fairy,All beneath the simmer moon;Not the poet, in the momentFancy lightens in his e'e,Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture,That thy presence gi'es to me.”

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Robert Burns114

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“Not the bee upon the blossom,
In the pride o' sunny noon;
Not the little sporting fairy,
All beneath the simmer moon;
Not the poet, in the moment
Fancy lightens in his e'e,
Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture,
That thy presence gi'es to me.”