It was during this _second-hand_ honeymoon, happier and more endeared than many have proved in their first gloss, that Burns wrote several of the sweetest effusions ever inspired by his Jean; even in the days of their early wooing, and when their intercourse had all the difficulty, all the romance, all the mystery, a poetical lover could desire. Thus practically controverting his own opinion, "that conjugal love does not make such a figure in poesy as that other love," &c.--for instance, we have that most beautiful song, composed when he left his Jean at Ayr (in the _west_ of Scotland,) and had gone to prepare for her at Elliesland, near Dumfries.[84] Of a' the airts the win' can blaw, I dearly love the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, the lass that I love best! There wild woods grow and rivers row, and mony a hill between; But day and night, my fancy's flight is ever wi' my Jean! I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair-- I hear her in the tuneful birds, wi' music charm the air. There's not a bonnie flower that springs by fountain, shaw, or green-- There's not a bonnie bird that sings, but minds me o' my Jean. O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw soft among the leafy trees! Wi' gentle gale, fra' muir and dale, bring hame the laden bees! And bring the lassie back to me, that's aye sae sweet and clean, Ae blink o' her wad banish care, sae lovely is my Jean! What sighs and vows, amang the knowes, hae past between us twa! How fain to meet! how wae to part!--that day she gaed awa! The powers above can only ken, to whom the heart is seen, That none can be sae dear to me, as my sweet lovely Jean! Nothing can be more lovely than the luxuriant, though rural imagery, the tone of placid but deep tenderness, which pervades this sweet song; and to feel all its harmony, it is not necessary to sing it--it is music in itself. In November 1788, Mrs. Burns took up her residence at Elliesland, and entered on her duties as a wife and mistress of a family, and her husband welcomed her to her home ("her ain roof-tree,") with the lively, energetic, but rather unquotable song, "I hae a wife o' my ain;" and subsequently he wrote for her, "O were I on Parnassus Hill," and that delightful little bit of simple feeling-- She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wife of mine. I never saw a fairer, I never lo'ed a dearer,-- And next my heart I'll wear her, For fear my jewel tine! and one of the finest of all his ballads, "Their groves o' green myrtle," which not only presents a most exquisite rural picture to the fancy, but breathes the very soul of chastened and conjugal tenderness.