delia, an ode

“to the editor of the star.—mr. printer—if the productions of a simple ploughman can merit a place in the same paper with sylvester otway, and the other favourites of the muses who illuminate the star with the lustre of genius, your insertion of the enclosed trifle will be succeeded by future munications from—yours, c., r. burns.

ellisland, near dumfries, 18th may, 1789.”

fair the face of orient day,

fair the tints of op'ning rose;

but fairer still my delia dawns,

more lovely far her beauty shows.

sweet the lark's wild warbled lay,

sweet the tinkling rill to hear;

but, delia, more delightful still,