The morn was fair, saft was the air, 
All nature's sweets were springing;
The buds did bow with silver dew, 
Ten thousand birds were singing;
When on the bent, with blyth content, 
Young Jamie sang his marrow,
Nae bonnier lass e'er trod the grass,
On Leader haughs and Yarrow.

O sweetest Sue! 'tis only you 
Can make life worth my wishes,
If equal love your mind can move 
To grant this best of blisses.
Thou art my Sun, and thy least frown 
Would blast me in the blossom;
But if thou shine, and make me thine, 
I'll flourish in thy bosom.