Robert Burns Poems
- 351. On The Birth Of A Posthumous Child.
Sweet flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love,
And ward o' mony a pray'r,
What heart o' stane wad thou na move,
- 352. Epistle From Esopus To Maria.
From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells,
Where infamy with sad repentance dwells;
Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast,
- 353. The Kirk's Alarm; A Satire. (first Version.)
Wha believe in John Knox,
Let me sound an alarm to your conscience:
- 354. Prologue, Spoken At The Theatre, Dumfries, 1 Jan. 1790.
No song nor dance I bring from yon great city
That queens it o'er our taste, the more's the pity:
Tho', by-the-by, abroad why will you roam?
- 355. Verses To A Young Lady.
Here, where the Scottish muse immortal lives,
In sacred strains and tuneful numbers join'd,
Accept the gift; tho' humble he who gives,
- 356. Liberty. - A Fragment.
Thee, Caledonia, thy wild heaths among,
Thee, fam'd for martial deed and sacred song,
To thee I turn with swimming eyes;
- 357. Death And Dr. Hornbook. - A True Story.
Some books are lies frae end to end,
And some great lies were never penn'd:
Ev'n ministers, they ha'e been kenn'd,
- 358. On Sensibility. To My Dear And Much Honoured Friend, Mrs. Dunlop, Of Dunlop.
Sensibility how charming,
Thou, my friend, canst truly tell:
But distress with horrors arming,
- 359. Address, Spoken By Miss Fontenelle On Her Benefit Night.
Still anxious to secure your partial favour,
And not less anxious, sure, this night than ever,
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter,
- 360. Address To The Toothache.
My curse upon thy venom'd stang,
That shoots my tortur'd gums alang;
And thro' my lugs gies mony a twang,
- 361. The Five Carlins. A Scots Ballad.
Tune - Chevy Chase.
- 362. Epistle To J. Rankine, Enclosing Some Poems.
O rough, rude, ready-witted Rankine,
The wale o' cocks for fun an' drinkin'!
There's monie godly folks are thinkin',
- 363. Sonnet, On The Death Of Robert Riddel, Esq. Of Glenriddel, April, 1794.
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,
- 364. Written In A Wrapper, Enclosing A Letter To Captain Grose.
Ken ye ought o' Captain Grose?
Igo and ago,
If he's amang his friends or foes?
- 365. The Farewell.
"The valiant, in himself, what can he suffer?
Or what does he regard his single woes?
But when, alas! he multiplies himself,
- 366. Sketch. - New Year's Day. To Mrs. Dunlop.
This day, Time winds th' exhausted chain,
To run the twelvemonth's length again:
I see the old, bald-pated follow,
- 367. To Robert Graham, Esq., Of Fintray. On Receiving A Favour.
I call no goddess to inspire my strains,
A fabled muse may suit a bard that feigns;
Friend of my life! my ardent spirit burns,
- 368. A Vision.
As I stood by yon roofless tower,
Where the wa'-flower scents the dewy air,
Where th' howlet mourns in her ivy bower
- 369. Peg Nicholson.
Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
As ever trode on airn;
But now she's floating down the Nith,
- 370. Sketch.
A little, upright, pert, tart, tripping wight,
And still his precious self his dear delight;
Who loves his own smart shadow in the streets
- 371. On Scaring Some Water-fowl In Loch-turit.
Why, ye tenants of the lake,
For me your wat'ry haunt forsake?
Tell me, fellow-creatures, why
- 372. Lines Sent To Sir John Whitefoord, Bart., Of Whitefoord. With The Foregoing Poem.
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,
- 373. Fragment Inscribed To The Right Hon. C.j. Fox.
How wisdom and folly meet, mix, and unite;
How virtue and vice blend their black and their white;
How genius, th' illustrious father of fiction,
- 374. To Miss Logan, With Beattie's Poems For A New Year's Gift. Jan. 1, 1787.
Again the silent wheels of time
Their annual round have driv'n,
And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime,
- 375. Written On The Blank Leaf Of A Copy Of My Poems, Presented To An Old Sweetheart, Then Married.
Once fondly lov'd and still remember'd dear;
Sweet early object of my youthful vows!
Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,
- 376. Address To The Shade Of Thomson, On Crowning His Bust At Ednam With Bays.
While virgin Spring, by Eden's flood,
Unfolds her tender mantle green,
Or pranks the sod in frolic mood,
- 377. Lines On Meeting With Lord Daer.
This wot ye all whom it concerns,
I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns,
- 378. Lament Of Mary, Queen Of Scots, On The Approach Of Spring.
Now Nature hangs her mantle green
- 379. Address Of Beelzebub To The President Of The Highland Society.
Long life, my Lord, an' health be yours,
Unskaith'd by hunger'd Highland boors;
Lord grant mae duddie desperate beggar,
- 380. To Dr. Blacklock, In Answer To A Letter.
Ellisland, 21st Oct. 1789.
Wow, but your letter made me vauntie!
- 381. A Bard's Epitaph.
Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
- 382. The Kirk's Alarm. - A Ballad. (second Version.)
- 383. Elegy On Miss Burnet, Of Monboddo.
Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize
As Burnet, lovely from her native skies;
Nor envious death so triumph'd in a blow,
- 384. The Whistle.
I sing of a whistle, a whistle of worth,
I sing of a whistle, the pride of the North,
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish king,
- 385. To John Taylor.
With Pegasus upon a day,
Apollo weary flying,
Through frosty hills the journey lay,
- 386. Epistle To William Creech.
Selkirk, 13 May, 1787.
Auld chukie Reekie's sair distrest,
- 387. Lament, Occasioned By The Unfortunate Issue Of A Friend's Amour.
"Alas! how oft does goodness wound itself!
And sweet affection prove the spring of woe."
- 388. To A Gentleman Who Had Sent Him A Newspaper, And Offered To Continue It Free Of Expense.
Kind Sir, I've read your paper through,
And, faith, to me 'twas really new!
How guess'd ye, Sir, what maist I wanted?
- 389. On Captain Grose's Peregrinations Through Scotland, Collecting The Antiquities Of That Kingdom.
Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's;
If there's a hole in a' your coats,
- 390. Tam O' Shanter. - A Tale.
"Of brownys and of bogilis full is this buke."
- 391. The Humble Petition Of Bruar Water To The Noble Duke Of Athole.
My Lord, I know your noble ear
- 392. To J. Rankine.
I am a keeper of the law
In some sma' points, altho' not a';
Some people tell me gin I fa'
- 393. Delia. - An Ode.
Fair the face of orient day,
Fair the tints of op'ning rose,
But fairer still my Delia dawns,
- 394. Despondency. - An Ode.
Oppress'd with grief, oppress'd with care,
- 395. Scots Prologue, For Mr. Sutherland's Benefit Night, Dumfries.
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?
- 396. A Winter Night.
"Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are
That bide the pelting of the pitiless storm!
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
- 397. First Epistle To Robert Graham, Esq. Of Fintray.
When Nature her great master-piece designed,
And fram'd her last, best work, the human mind,
Her eye intent on all the mazy plan,
- 398. On Seeing A Wounded Hare Limp By Me, Which A Fellow Had Just Shot.
Inhuman man! curse on thy barb'rous art,
And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye;
May never pity soothe thee with a sigh,
- 399. To John M'murdo, Esq.
O, could I give thee India's wealth,
As I this trifle send!
Because thy joy in both would be
- 400. Written With A Pencil, Over The Chimney-piece, In The Parlour Of The Inn At Kenmore, Taymouth.
Admiring Nature in her wildest grace,
These northern scenes with weary feet I trace;
O'er many a winding dale and painful steep,
Total 973 poems written by Robert Burns