I do confess thou art sae fair,
  I wad been o'er the lugs in luve;
Had I na found, the slightest prayer
  That lips could speak, thy heart could muve. 
I do confess thee sweet, but find
  Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets,
Thy favors are the silly wind
  That kisseth ilka thing it meets. 

See yonder rose-bud, rich in dew,
  Amang its native briers sae coy,
How sune it tines its scent and hue,
  When pu'd and worn a common toy!
Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide,
  Tho' thou may gayly bloom a while,
Yet sune thou shalt be thrown aside,
  Like ony common weed and vile. 

Confirmed with The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Burns, Cambridge edition, Boston and New York, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1897, page 234.

Text Authorship:

• by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796), "I do confess thou art sae fair" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

• by (Franz) Joseph Haydn (1732 - 1809), "I do confess thou art sae fair", Hob. XXXIa no. 110, JHW. XXXII/2 no. 110 [sung text not yet checked]

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

• CZE Czech (Čeština) (Josef Václav Sládek) , "Já přiznávám, že krásná jsi"
• FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Je confesse que tu es si belle", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this page: Pierre Mathé [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 110