Robert Burns Poems

  • 901.  
    REVERED defender of beauteous Stuart,
    Of Stuart, a name once respected;A name, which to love was the mark of a true heart,
  • 902.  
    WHAT dost thou in that mansion fair?
    Flit, Galloway, and findSome narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
  • 903.  
    MY Harry was a gallant gay,
    Fu' stately strade he on the plain;But now he's banish'd far away,
  • 904.  
    THE GLOOMY night is gath'ring fast,
    Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast,Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
  • 905.  
    O YE whose cheek the tear of pity stains,
    Draw near with pious rev'rence, and attend! Here lie the loving husband's dear remains,
  • 906.  
    OF 1 a' the airts the wind can blaw,
    I dearly like the west,For there the bonie lassie lives,
  • 907.  
    Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,
    Fareweel our ancient glory;Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name,
  • 908.  
    Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
    How can ye blume sae fair?How can ye chant, ye little birds,
  • 909.  
    MY heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie,
    Some counsel unto me come len',To anger them a' is a pity,
  • 910.  
    NO churchman am I for to rail and to write,
    No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight,No sly man of business contriving a snare,
  • 911.  
    WHERE hae ye been sae braw, lad?
    Whare hae ye been sae brankie, O?Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
  • 912.  
    WHEN rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
    To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers,Then busy, busy are his hours,
  • 913.  
    HAIL, thairm-inspirin', rattlin' Willie!
    Tho' fortune's road be rough an' hillyTo every fiddling, rhyming billie,
  • 914.  
    O SAD and heavy, should I part,
    But for her sake, sae far awa;Unknowing what my way may thwart,
  • 915.  
    SWEET closes the ev'ning on Craigieburn Wood,
    And blythely awaukens the morrow;But the pride o' the spring in the Craigieburn Wood
  • 916.  
    WHOE'ER he be that sojourns here,
    I pity much his case,Unless he comes to wait upon
  • 917.  
    YE hypocrites! are these your pranks?
    To murder men and give God thanks!Desist, for shame!â??proceed no further;
  • 918.  
    Chorus.â??Robin shure in hairst,
    I shure wi' him.Fient a heuk had I,
  • 919.  
    IN wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
    Your heavy loss deplore;Now, half extinct your powers of song,
  • 920.  
    IT was a' for our rightfu' King
    We left fair Scotland's strand;It was a' for our rightfu' King
  • 921.  
    HERE lies Johnie Pigeon;
    What was his religion?Whae'er desires to ken,
  • 922.  
    YON wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
    That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
  • 923.  
    O THOU, in whom we live and moveâ??
    Who made the sea and shore;Thy goodness constantly we prove,
  • 924.  
    THERE was once a day, but old Time wasythen young,
    That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line,From some of your northern deities sprung,
  • 925.  
    Nae lark in transport mounts the sky
    Or leaves wi' early plaintive cry,But I will bid a last good-bye,
  • 926.  
    Chorus.â??She is a winsome wee thing,
    She is a handsome wee thing,She is a lo'esome wee thing,
  • 927.  
    I hae seen the hairst o' Rettie, lads,
    And twa-three aff the throne.I've heard o sax and seven weeks
  • 928.  
    INHUMAN man! curse on thy barb'rous art,
    And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye;May never pity soothe thee with a sigh,
  • 929.  
    O A' ye pious godly flocks,
    Weel fed on pastures orthodox,Wha now will keep you frae the fox,
  • 930.  
    IN Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles,
    The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a';Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess,
  • 931.  
    WHAT needs this din about the town o' Lon'on,
    How this new play an' that new sang is comin?Why is outlandish stuff sae meikle courted?
  • 932.  
    LIGHT lay the earth on Billy's breast,
    His chicken heart so tender;But build a castle on his head,
  • 933.  
    WILL ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
    And leave auld Scotia's shore?Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
  • 934.  
    'TWAS on a Monday morning,
    Right early in the year,That Charlie came to our town,
  • 935.  
    Behind yon hills, where Lugar flows,
    'Mang moors an' mosses many, O,The wintry sun the day has clos'd,
  • 936.  
    HERE'S to thy health, my bonie lass,
    Gude nicht and joy be wi' thee;I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door,
  • 937.  
    It was a' for our rightfu' King
    We left fair Scotland's strand;It was a' for our rightfu' King
  • 938.  
    O were my Love yon lilac fair,
    Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,And I a bird to shelter there,
  • 939.  
    Go fetch to me a pint o' wine,
    An' fill it in a silver tassie,That I may drink, before I go,
  • 940.  
    Of a' the airts the wind can blaw,
    I dearly like the west,For there the bonnie lassie lives,
  • 941.  
    Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
    Ca' them where the heather grows, Ca' them where the burnie rows,
  • 942.  
    Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
    How can ye bloom sae fair!How can ye chant, ye little birds,
  • 943.  
    On Turning her up in her Nest with the Plough

  • 944.  

  • 945.  

  • 946.  
    O, wilt thou go wi' me,
    Sweet Tibbie Dunbar?O, wilt thou go wi' me,
  • 947.  
    A note of seeming truth and trust
    Hid crafty observation; And secret hung, with poison'd crust,
  • 948.  

  • 949.  
    A Tale

  • 950.  
    My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie,
    Some counsel unto me come len';To anger them a' is a pity,
Total 973 poems written by Robert Burns

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I stood among the boats
The sinking sun, the angry sun,
Across the sullen wave
Laid the sudden strength of his red wrath
Like to a shaken glaive:-
Or did the sun pause in the west
To lift a sword at me,
Or was it she, or was it she,

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