Explore "Her Flowing Locks" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Her flowing locks, the raven's wing, / Adown her neck and bosom hing; / How sweet unto that breast to cling, / And round that neck entwine her!
Her lips are roses wat wi' dew, / O' what a feast her bonie mou'! / Her cheeks a mair celestial hue, / A crimson still diviner!