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On Chloris being ill

Long, long the night,
Heavy comes the morrow,
While my soul's delight
Is on her bed of sorrow.

Can I cease to care,
Can I cease to languish,
While my darling Fair
Is on the couch of anguish.

Long, long the night,
Heavy comes the morrow,
While my soul's delight
Is on her bed of sorrow.

Ev'ry hope is fled;
Ev'ry fear is terror;
Slumber even I dread,
Ev'ry dream is horror.

Long, long the night,
Heavy comes the morrow,
While my soul's delight
Is on her bed of sorrow.

Hear me, Powers Divine!
Oh, in pity, hear me!
Take aught else of mine,
But my Chloris spare me!

Long, long the night,
Heavy comes the morrow,
While my soul's delight
Is on her bed of sorrow.

1 minute

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The works of Robert Burns

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