Robert Burns

Fragment [Now health forsakes that angel face]

Now health forsakes that angel face, Nae mair my Dearie smiles; Pale sickness withers ilka grace, And a' my hopes beguiles: The cruel Powers reject the prayer I hourly mak for thee; Ye Heavens how great is my despair, How can I see him die!

Don't have an account?

You will be identified by the alias - name will be hidden