This text comes from The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,
And waste my soul with care;
But ah! how bootless to admire!
When fated to despair!
Yet in thy presence, lovely fair,
To hope may be forgiven;
For sure, 'twere impious to despair
So much in sight of heaven.