Robert Burns Poems

  • 951.  
    Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
    Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,Welcome to your gory bed,
  • 952.  
    Oh wert thou in the cauld blast,
    On yonder lea, on yonder lea,My plaidie to the angry airt,
  • 953.  
    Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
    The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
  • 954.  
    O Mary, at thy window be,
    It is the wished, the trysted hour!Those smiles and glances let me see,
  • 955.  
    Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
    And sair wi' his love he did deave me;I said there was naething I hated like men:
  • 956.  
    The lovely lass o' Inverness,
    Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;For e'en and morn she cries, “Alas!”
  • 957.  
    There were three kings into the east,
    Three kings both great and high,An' they hae sworn a solemn oath
  • 958.  
    John Anderson, my jo John,
    When we were first acquentYour locks were like the raven,
  • 959.  
    It was a' for our rightful king
    That we left fair Scotland's strand;It was a' for our rightful king
  • 960.  
    Ye banks and braes and streams around
    The castle o' Montgomery,Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
  • 961.  
    Green grow the rashes, O!
    Green grow the rashes, O!The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
  • 962.  
    Is there, for honest poverty,
    That hings his head, an' a' that?The coward slave, we pass him by,
  • 963.  
    Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,
    Fareweel our ancient glory;Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name,
  • 964.  
    Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
    Ha, ha, the wooing o't,On blythe Yule Night when we were fu',
  • 965.  
    Coming thro' the rye, poor body,
    Coming thro' the rye,She draiglet a' her petticoatie
  • 966.  
    Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
    Ca' them where the heather growsCa' them where the burnie rows,
  • 967.  
    O saw ye bonnie Lesley
    As she gaed o'er the Border?She's gane, like Alexander,
  • 968.  
    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
    And never brought to mind?Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
  • 969.  
    Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
    Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
  • 970.  
    Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
    Ae fareweel, and then for ever!Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
  • 971.  
    O Prince, O chief of many throned pow'rs!
    That led th' embattled seraphim to war! (Milton, Paradise Lost)
  • 972.  
    When biting Boreas, fell and doure,
    Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r;When Phœbus gies a short-liv'd glow'r,
  • 973.  
    O my Luve's like a red, red rose
    That's newly sprung in June;O my Luve's like the melodie
Total 973 poems written by Robert Burns

Poem of the day

John Keats Poem
A Thing Of Beauty (Endymion)
 by John Keats

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth

Read complete poem

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