Robert Burns Poems
Song—on A Bank Of Flowers ON a bank of flowers, in a summer day,
For summer lightly drest,The youthful, blooming Nelly lay,
Peggy Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns
Bring autumn's pleasant weather;And the moorcock springs, on whirring wings,
To Mr. M'adam, Of Craigen-gillan SIR, o'er a gill I gat your card,
I trow it made me proud;"See wha taks notice o' the bard!"
On The Birth Of A Posthumous Child SWEET flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love,
And ward o' mony a prayer,What heart o' stane wad thou na move,
Epitaph On William Hood, Senior HERE Souter Hood in death does sleep;
To hell if he's gane thither,Satan, gie him thy gear to keep;
Epitaph For William Nicol, High School, Edinburgh YE maggots, feed on Nicol's brain,
For few sic feasts you've gotten;And fix your claws in Nicol's heart,
Song—my Nanie's Awa NOW in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er her braes;While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw,
Song—bonie Dundee: A Fragment MY blessin's upon thy sweet wee lippie!
My blessin's upon thy e'e-brie!Thy smiles are sae like my blythe sodger laddie,
The Slave—s Lament It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthrall
For the lands of Virginia-ginia O;Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more,
Epistle To John Maxwell, Esq., Of Terraughty HEALTH to the Maxwell's veteran Chief!
Health, aye unsour'd by care or grief:Inspir'd, I turn'd Fate's sibyl leaf,
Song—sic A Wife As Willie Had WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie;Willie was a wabster gude,
Song—braving Angry Winer's Storms WHERE, braving angry winter's storms,
The lofty Ochils rise,Far in their shade my Peggy's charms
Song—"indeed Will I," Quo' Findlay "WHA is that at my bower-door?"
"O wha is it but Findlay!""Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here:"
The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata e the bauckie-bird,
Bedim cauld Boreas' blast;When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte,
Lines On Meeting With Lord Daer THIS 1 wot ye all whom it concerns,
I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns,October twenty-third,
Sketch In Verse, Inscribed To The Right Hon. C. J. Fox e blend their black and their white,
How Genius, th' illustrious father of fiction,Confounds rule and law, reconciles contradiction,
Lines To Mr. John Kennedy FAREWELL, dear friend! may guid luck hit you,
And 'mang her favourites admit you:If e'er Detraction shore to smit you,
The Song Of Death FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
Now gay with the broad setting sun;Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties,
Anna, Thy Charms Yestreen I had a pint o' wine,
A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
Verses On Captain Grose KEN ye aught o' Captain Grose?â??Igo, and ago,
If he's amang his friends or foes?â??Iram, coram, dago.
Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear Ah, woe is me, my mother dear!
A man of strife ye've born me:For sair contention I maun bear;
Epitaph On A Noisy Polemic BELOW thir stanes lie Jamie's banes;
O Death, it's my opinion,Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin bitch
Song—fragment—leezie Lindsay 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 Father Was A Farmer: A Ballad lly he bred me in decency and order, O;
He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing, O;For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O.
Ballad On Mr. Heron's Election—no. 4 Broughton, a' in high repair?
The Charming Month Of May IT was the charming month of May,
When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay.One morning, by the break of day,
Song—i'll Meet Thee On The Lea Rig WHEN o'er the hill the eastern star
Tells bughtin time is near, my jo,And owsen frae the furrow'd field
Lines To An Old Sweetheart ONCE fondly lov'd, and still remember'd dear,
Sweet early object of my youthful vows,Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,
Song—crowdie Ever Mair O THAT I had ne'er been married,
I wad never had nae care,Now I've gotten wife an' weans,
Robert Bruce's March To Bannockburn Scots, what hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed,
Song—fragment—damon And Sylvia YON wandering rill that marks the hill,
And glances o'er the brae, Sir,Slides by a bower, where mony a flower
Fragment—wee Willie Gray WEE Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Peel a willow wand to be him boots and jacket;The rose upon the breir will be him trews an' doublet,
Versified Note To Dr. Mackenzie, Mauchline FRIDAY first's the day appointed
By the Right Worshipful anointed,To hold our grand procession;
To The Wood-lark O stay, sweet warbling wood-lark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Epitaph For Robert Aiken, Esq. KNOW thou, O stranger to the fame
Of this much lov'd, much honoured name!(For none that knew him need be told)
148. To Miss Logan, With Beattie's Poems AGAIN the silent wheels of time
Their annual round have driven,And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime,
Up In The Morning Early Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;Sae loud shrill`s I hear the blast,
A Rose-bud By My Early Walk A ROSE-BUD by my early walk,
Adown a corn-enclosed bawk,Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
Saw You My Dear, My Philly O SAW ye my Dear, my Philly?
O saw ye my Dear, my Philly,She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new Love,
Wha Is That At My Bower-door 'Wha is that at my bower-door?'
'O wha is it but Findlay!' 'Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here:'
Banks O' Doon, The Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds,
To Alex. Cunningham, Esq., Writer, Edinburgh MY godlike friendâ??nay, do not stare,
You think the phrase is odd-like;But "God is love," the saints declare,
Song—kenmure's On And Awa, Willie O KENMURE'S on and awa, Willie,
O Kenmure's on and awa:An' Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord
Fragment—altho' He Has Left Me ALTHO' he has left me for greed o' the siller,
I dinna envy him the gains he can win; I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow,
A Mother's Lament For Her Son's Death FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,
And pierc'd my darling's heart;And with him all the joys are fled
Lament For James, Earl Of Glencairn ing beam
Look'd on the fading yellow woods,That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream:
Bonie Lesley O saw ye bonie Lesley
As she gaed o'er the Border?She 's gane, like Alexander,
Lines Inscribed Under Fergusson's Portrait CURSE on ungrateful man, that can be pleased,
And yet can starve the author of the pleasure.O thou, my elder brother in misfortune,
Inscription At Friars' Carse Hermitage TO Riddell, much lamented man,
This ivied cot was dear;Wandr'er, dost value matchless worth?
Ode For General Washington's Birthday s liberty's bold note I swell,
Thy harp, Columbia, let me take!See gathering thousands, while I sing,
Total 973 poems written by Robert Burns
Poem of the day
Rooks by Charles Hamilton Sorley
There where the rusty iron lies,
The rooks are cawing all the day.
Perhaps no man, until he dies,
Will understand them, what they say.
The evening makes the sky like clay.
The slow wind waits for night to rise.
The world is half content. But they
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