Robert Burns Poetry

Robert Burns Poem Epistle To James Tennant Of Glenconner Auld comrade dear, and brither sinner, How’s a’ the folk about Glenconner? How do you this blae eastlin wind, That’s like to blaw a body blind? For me, my faculties are frozen, My dearest member nearly dozen’d. I’ve sent you here, by Johnie Simson, Twa sage […]

Robert Burns Poem Epistle To Colonel De Peyster My honor’d Colonel, deep I feel Your interest in the Poet’s weal; Ah! now sma’ heart hae I to speel The steep Parnassus, Surrounded thus by bolus pill, And potion glasses. O what a canty world were it, Would pain and care and sickness spare it; And […]

Thou Gloomy December Poem Robert Burns Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December! Ance mair I hail thee wi’ sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me remember— Parting wi’ Nancy, oh, ne’er to meet mair! Fond lovers’ parting is sweet, painful pleasure, Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; But […]

I do Confess Thou Art Sae Fair Robert Burns Poetry Alteration of an Old Poem. I Do confess thou art sae fair, I was been o’er the lugs in luve, Had I na found the slightest prayer That lips could speak thy heart could muve. I do confess thee sweet, but find Thou art so […]

I’m O’er Young To Marry Yet Robert Burns Poetry Chorus.—I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young to marry yet; I’m o’er young, ‘twad be a sin To tak me frae my mammy yet. I am my mammny’s ae bairn, Wi’ unco folk I weary, sir; And lying in a man’s bed, I’m fley’d […]

Divine Service In The Kirk Of Lamington Poetry As cauld a wind as ever blew, A cauld kirk, an in’t but few: As cauld a minister’s e’er spak; Ye’se a’ be het e’er I come back.

Gudewife, Count The Lawin Robert Burns Poetry Gane is the day, and mirk’s the night, But we’ll ne’er stray for faut o’ light; Gude ale and bratdy’s stars and moon, And blue-red wine’s the risin’ sun. Chorus.—Then gudewife, count the lawin, The lawin, the lawin, Then gudewife, count the lawin, And bring a coggie mair. […]

Sweet Afton Poem Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro’ the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing […]

Robert Burns – Monody Poem On a lady famed for her Caprice. How cold is that bosom which folly once fired, How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten’d; How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired, How dull is that ear which to flatt’ry so listen’d! If sorrow and anguish their […]

The Epitaph Poem Tam Samson’s weel-worn clay here lies Ye canting zealots, spare him! If honest worth in Heaven rise, Ye’ll mend or ye win near him.