Robert Burns Poetry

To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough, November, 1785 Poem Robert Burns Wee, sleekit, cow’rin, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee, Wi’ murd’ring pattle! I’m truly sorry […]

Inscription On A Goblet Robert Burns Poetry There’s Death in the cup, so beware! Nay, more—there is danger in touching; But who can avoid the fell snare, The man and his wine’s so bewitching!

How Lang And Dreary Is The Night Robert Burns Poetry How lang and dreary is the night When I am frae my Dearie; I restless lie frae e’en to morn Though I were ne’er sae weary. Chorus.—For oh, her lanely nights are lang! And oh, her dreams are eerie; And oh, her window’d heart is […]

Strathallan’s Lament Poem Thickest night, o’erhang my dwelling! Howling tempests, o’er me rave! Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, Roaring by my lonely cave! [Footnote 1: Burns confesses that his Jacobtism was merely sentimental except when my passions were heated by some accidental cause, and a tour through the country where Montrose, Claverhouse, and Prince Charles had […]

Robert Burns – Lines Sent To Sir John Whiteford, Bart Poem With The Lament On The Death Of the Earl Of Glencairn Thou, who thy honour as thy God rever’st, Who, save thy mind’s reproach, nought earthly fear’st, To thee this votive offering I impart, The tearful tribute of a broken heart. The Friend thou […]

THE AULD FARMER’S NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION TO HIS AULD MARE MAGGIE, ON GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED RIPP OF CORN TO HANSEL IN THE NEW YEAR “Whenever Burns has occasion,” says Hogg, “to address or mention any subordinate being, however mean, even a mouse or a flower, then there is a gentle pathos in it that […]

Bonie Peg-a-Ramsay Poem Cauld is the e’enin blast, O’ Boreas o’er the pool, An’ dawin’ it is dreary, When birks are bare at Yule. Cauld blaws the e’enin blast, When bitter bites the frost, And, in the mirk and dreary drift, The hills and glens are lost: Ne’er sae murky blew the night That drifted […]

Down The Burn, Davie Poetry As down the burn they took their way, And thro’ the flowery dale; His cheek to hers he aft did lay, And love was aye the tale: With Mary, when shall we return, Sic pleasure to renew? Quoth Mary— Love, I like the burn, And aye shall follow you.

The Bonie Lad That’s Far Awa Poem O how can I be blythe and glad, Or how can I gang brisk and braw, When the bonie lad that I lo’e best Is o’er the hills and far awa! It’s no the frosty winter wind, It’s no the driving drift and snaw; But aye the tear […]

On Seeing Mrs. Kemble In Yarico Poem Robert Burns Kemble, thou cur’st my unbelief For Moses and his rod; At Yarico’s sweet nor of grief The rock with tears had flow’d.