Robert Burns Poems

  • 501.  
    EXPECT na, sir, in this narration,
    A fleechin, fleth'rin Dedication, To roose you up, an' ca' you guid,
  • 502.  
    HOW pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon,
    With green spreading bushes and flow'rs blooming fair! But the boniest flow'r on the banks of the Devon
  • 503.  
    A Song of Similes
    Tune - 'If he be a Butcher neat and trim.'
  • 504.  
    THAT there is a falsehood in his looks,
    I must and will deny: They tell their Master is a knave,
  • 505.  
    Scots, wha hae wi Wallace bled,
    Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed
  • 506.  
    NO more, ye warblers of the wood! no more;
    Nor pour your descant grating on my soul; Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in thy verdant stole,
  • 507.  
    THOU flatt'ring mark of friendship kind,
    Still may thy pages call to mind The dear, the beauteous donor;
  • 508.  
    HUMID seal of soft affections,
    Tenderest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections,
  • 509.  
    THE HEATHER was blooming, the meadows were mawn,
    Our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at the dawn, O'er moors and o'er mosses and mony a glen,
  • 510.  
    ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
    Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me rememberâ??
  • 511.  
    DEAR â??â??â??, I'll gie ye some advice,
    You'll tak it no uncivil: You shouldna paint at angels mair,
  • 512.  
    Chorusâ??Long, long the night,
    Heavy comes the morrow While my soul's delight
  • 513.  
    WHY am I loth to leave this earthly scene?
    Have I so found it full of pleasing charms? Some drops of joy with draughts of ill betweenâ??
  • 514.  
    THERE lived a carl in Kellyburn Braes,
    Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; And he had a wife was the plague of his days,
  • 515.  
    I HOLD it, sir, my bounden duty
    To warn you how that Master Tootie, Alias, Laird M'Gaun,
  • 516.  
    WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
    What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man? Bad luck on the penny that tempted my minnie
  • 517.  
    O WERE my love yon Lilac fair,
    Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring, And I, a bird to shelter there,
  • 518.  
    Yestreen I had a pint o' wine,
    A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
  • 519.  
    THERE 1 was a lad was born in Kyle,
    But whatna day o' whatna style, I doubt it's hardly worth the while
  • 520.  
    Sleep'st thou, or wakâ??st thou, fairest creature?
    Rosy morn now lifts his eye, Numbering ilka bud which Nature
  • 521.  
    GUDEWIFE,I MIND it weel in early date,
    When I was bardless, young, and blate, An' first could thresh the barn,
  • 522.  
    LATE crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg,
    About to beg a pass for leave to beg; Dull, listless, teas'd, dejected, and deprest
  • 523.  
    THE BLUDE-RED rose at Yule may blaw,
    The simmer lilies bloom in snaw, The frost may freeze the deepest sea;
  • 524.  
    FAREWELL to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
    The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
  • 525.  
    Chorus.â??Jamie, come try me,
    Jamie, come try me, If thou would win my love,
  • 526.  
    THOU, Liberty, thou art my theme;
    Not such as idle poets dream, Who trick thee up a heathen goddess
  • 527.  
    AE day, as Death, that gruesome carl,
    Was driving to the tither warl' A mixtie-maxtie motley squad,
  • 528.  
    LONE on the bleaky hills the straying flocks
    Shun the fierce storms among the sheltering rocks; Down from the rivulets, red with dashing rains,
  • 529.  
    YESTREEN I had a pint o' wine,
    A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
  • 530.  
    Chorusâ??O gude ale comes and gude ale goes;
    Gude ale gars me sell my hose, Sell my hose, and pawn my shoonâ??
  • 531.  
    YE sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
    To follow the noble vocation; Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
  • 532.  
    Is there for honest poverty
    That hangs his head, an' a' that? The coward slave, we pass him by
  • 533.  
    The Author's Only Pet Yowe
    An Unco Mournfu' Tale
  • 534.  
    YE flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
       How can ye blume sae fair! How can ye chant, ye little birds,
  • 535.  
    The Author's Only Pet Yowe
    An Unco Mournfu' Tale
  • 536.  
    SOME books are lies frae end to end,
    And some great lies were never penn'd: Ev'n ministers they hae been kenn'd,
  • 537.  
    FAIR maid, you need not take the hint,
    Nor idle texts pursue: 'Twas guilty sinners that he meant,
  • 538.  
    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,
  • 539.  
    O LEAVE novels, 1 ye Mauchline belles,
    Ye're safer at your spinning-wheel; Such witching books are baited hooks
  • 540.  
    WHILE briers an' woodbines budding green,
    An' paitricks scraichin loud at e'en, An' morning poussie whiddin seen,
  • 541.  
    THE WINTER it is past, and the summer comes at last
    And the small birds, they sing on ev'ry tree; Now ev'ry thing is glad, while I am very sad,
  • 542.  
    1 Upon a simmer Sunday morn,
    2 When Nature's face is fair, 3 I walked forth to view the corn
  • 543.  
    HOW cruel are the parents
    Who riches only prize, And to the wealthy booby
  • 544.  
    HERE lies, now a prey to insulting neglect,
    What once was a butterfly, gay in life's beam: Want only of wisdom denied her respect,
  • 545.  
    AULD comrade dear, and brither sinner,
    How's a' the folk about Glenconner? How do you this blae eastlin wind,
  • 546.  
    Upon that night, when fairies light
    On Cassilis Downans dance, Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
  • 547.  
    HERE'S a health to them that's awa,
    Here's a health to them that's awa; And wha winna wish gude luck to our cause,
  • 548.  
    Go fetch to me a pint o wine,
    And fill it in a silver tassie; That I may drink, before I go,
  • 549.  
    WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn,
    And gentle peace returning, Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
  • 550.  
    LORD, we thank, and thee adore,
    For temporal gifts we little merit; At present we will ask no moreâ??
Total 973 poems written by Robert Burns

Poem of the day

A. E. Housman Poem
When Smoke Stood Up From Ludlow
 by A. E. Housman

When smoke stood up from Ludlow,
And mist blew off from Teme,
And blithe afield to ploughing
Against the morning beam
I strode beside my team,

The blackbird in the coppice
Looked out to see me stride,
...

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