Robert Burns Poetry

Epigram On Francis Grose The Antiquary Poetry The Devil got notice that Grose was a-dying So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying; But when he approached where poor Francis lay moaning, And saw each bed-post with its burthen a-groaning, Astonish’d, confounded, cries Satan— By God, I’ll want him, ere I take such a […]

THE JOLLY BEGGARS. A CANTATA. This inimitable poem, unknown to Currie and unheardof while the poet lived, was first given to the world, with other characteristic pieces, by Mr. Stewart of Glasgow, in the year 1801. Some have surmised that it is not the work of Burns; but the parentage is certain: the original manuscript […]

A Stanza Added In A Mason Lodge Poem Then fill up a bumper and make it o’erflow, And honours masonic prepare for to throw; May ev’ry true Brother of the Compass and Square Have a big-belly’d bottle when harass’d with care.

Robert Burns – Lines Written In Friars’-Carse Hermitage Poem Glenriddel Hermitage, June 28th, 1788. Thou whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deckt in silken stole, Grave these maxims on thy soul. Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night, in darkness lost: Hope not sunshine every […]

Ode, Sacred To The Memory Of Mrs. Oswald Of Auchencruive Poem Robert Burns Dweller in yon dungeon dark, Hangman of creation! mark, Who in widow-weeds appears, Laden with unhonour’d years, Noosing with care a bursting purse, Baited with many a deadly curse? Strophe View the wither’d Beldam’s face; Can thy keen inspection trace Aught of […]

Written By Somebody On The Window Poem Robert Burns Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin. Here Stuarts once in glory reigned, And laws for Scotland’s weal ordained; But now unroof’d their palace stands, Their sceptre’s sway’d by other hands; Fallen indeed, and to the earth Whence groveling reptiles take […]

THE TWA HERDS: OR, THE HOLY TULZIE. The actors in this indecent drama were Moodie, minister of Ricartoun, and Russell, helper to the minister of Kilmarnock: though apostles of the “Old Light,” they forgot their brotherhood in the vehemence of controversy, and went, it is said, to blows. “This poem,” says Burns, “with a certain […]

Fragment. Leezie Lindsay Robert Burns Poetry Will ye go to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay, Will ye go to the Hielands wi’ me? Will ye go to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay, My pride and my darling to be.

Robert Burns Poem Epitaph On John Rankine Ae day, as Death, that gruesome carl, Was driving to the tither warl’ A mixtie—maxtie motley squad, And mony a guilt-bespotted lad— Black gowns of each denomination, And thieves of every rank and station, From him that wears the star and garter, To him that wintles in a […]

MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. A DIRGE. The origin of this fine poem is alluded to by Burns in one of his letters to Mrs. Dunlop: “I had an old grand-uncle with whom my mother lived in her girlish years: the good old man was long blind ere he died, during which time his highest […]