Robert Burns, 1795
Their groves o' sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon,|
Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume;
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan,
Wi' the burn stealing under the lang, yellow broom.
Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers
Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk, lowly, unseen;
For there, lightly tripping, among the wild flowers,
A-list'ning the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.
2. Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny valleys,
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