The poem
OF 1 a’ the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, For there the bonie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best: There’s wild-woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between: But day and night my fancys’ flight Is ever wi’ my Jean.
I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair: I hear her in the tunefu’ birds, I hear her charm the air: There’s not a bonie flower that springs, By fountain, shaw, or green; There’s not a bonie bird that sings, But minds me o’ my Jean.
Note 1. Written during a separation from Mrs. Burns in their honeymoon. Burns was preparing a home at Ellisland; Mrs. Burns was at Mossgiel.—Lang.