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µµ¼­ How blythely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich...¿¡ ´ëÇØ °Ë»öÇÑ
" How blythely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison. Yestreen when to the trembling string The dance gaed thro... "
Select Works of the British Poets: In a Chronological Series from Falconer ... - 227 ÆäÀÌÁö
ÀúÀÚ: John Aikin - 1838 - 732 ÆäÀÌÁö
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Century Types of English Literature: Chronologically Arranged

George William McClelland - 1925 - 1178 ÆäÀÌÁö
...warld o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that! *¡Æ MARY MORISON 0 Mary, at thy window be, It is the wished, d the winds bide the stoure," A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison....
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Magic Casements

1926 - 780 ÆäÀÌÁö
...we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo. — Robert Burns MARY MORISON 0 Mary, at thy window be, It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!...make the miser's treasure poor. How blithely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison!...
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The Oxford Book of Eighteenth Century Verse

David Nichol Smith - 1926 - 744 ÆäÀÌÁö
...prentice han' she tried on man, An' then she made the lasses O. Poems (Edinburgh), 1787 O 409 Mary I MARY, at thy window be, It is the wish'd, the trysted hour...glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor : warly] worldly tapsalteerie] topsy-turvy How blythely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun...
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An Anthology of World Poetry

Mark Van Doren - 1928 - 1390 ÆäÀÌÁö
...hour. Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor. How blythely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I...the rich reward secure — The lovely Mary Morison! Yeftreen, when to the trembling string The dance gaed through the lighted ha', To thee my fancy took...
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Songs and Poems of Robert Burns

Ralph Knight - 1959 - 246 ÆäÀÌÁö
...tempo ?^ r * cresc. rit. p I the rich_re - ward se-cure The love-ly Ma - ry Mor - 1 - son. O Mary, at thy window be! It is the wish'd, the trysted hour....let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor. How blythely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure— The...
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