Her Flowing Locks.
By Robert Burns
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 bonnie mou'! Her cheeks a mair celestial hue, A crimson still diviner.
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Her flowing locks, the raven's wing,..."
Robert Burns's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Her Flowing Locks."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...