The Brigs Of Ayr Poem Rhyme Scheme

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 10 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Wonderful Women
by Umaru Kanneh Boima
Freedom To Scratch In Peace
by Olute Aete
Happy New Year
by Felix Menda
Human Beings
by Dana Graslie
Lust
by Wisdom Greatness
An Isolated Tree's Song
by Sayeed Abubakar
A Strange Boy
by Sayeed Abubakar
O Soil
by Sayeed Abubakar
No War, No War-monger
by Sayeed Abubakar
Night's Town
by Sayeed Abubakar

Popular Poets

1. Emily Dickinson(2414 poems)
2. Madison Julius Cawein(1231 poems)
3. Ella Wheeler Wilcox(1136 poems)
4. William Wordsworth(1016 poems)
5. Robert Burns(986 poems)
6. Edgar Albert Guest(945 poems)
7. Thomas Moore(849 poems)
8. Robert Service(831 poems)

THE SIMPLE Bard rough at the rustic plough	A
Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough	A
The chanting linnet or the mellow thrush	B
Hailing the setting sun sweet in the green thorn bush	C
The soaring lark the perching red breast shrill	D
Or deep ton'd plovers grey wild whistling o'er the hill	D
Shall he nurst in the peasant's lowly shed	E
To hardy independence bravely bred	E
By early poverty to hardship steel'd	E
And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field	E
Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes	F
The servile mercenary Swiss of rhymes	F
Or labour hard the panegyric close	G
With all the venal soul of dedicating prose	H
No though his artless strains he rudely sings	I
And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings	I
He glows with all the spirit of the Bard	E
Fame honest fame his great his dear reward	E
Still if some patron's gen'rous care he trace	J
Skill'd in the secret to bestow with grace	J
When Ballantine befriends his humble name	K
And hands the rustic stranger up to fame	K
With heartfelt throes his grateful bosom swells	L
The godlike bliss to give alone excels	L
	-
	-
'Twas when the stacks get on their winter hap	M
And thack and rape secure the toil won crap	M
Potatoe bings are snugg d up frae skaith	N
O' coming Winter's biting frosty breath	N
The bees rejoicing o'er their summer toils	O
Unnumber'd buds an' flow'rs' delicious spoils	O
Seal'd up with frugal care in massive waxen piles	P
Are doom'd by Man that tyrant o'er the weak	Q
The death o' devils smoor'd wi' brimstone reek	Q
The thundering guns are heard on ev'ry side	E
The wounded coveys reeling scatter wide	E
The feather'd field mates bound by Nature's tie	E
Sires mothers children in one carnage lie	E
What warm poetic heart but inly bleeds	R
And execrates man's savage ruthless deeds	R
Nae mair the flow'r in field or meadow springs	I
Nae mair the grove with airy concert rings	I
Except perhaps the Robin's whistling glee	S
Proud o' the height o' some bit half lang tree	S
The hoary morns precede the sunny days	T
Mild calm serene wide spreads the noontide blaze	T
While thick the gosamour waves wanton in the rays	T
	-
	-
'Twas in that season when a simple Bard	E
Unknown and poor simplicity's reward	E
Ae night within the ancient brugh of Ayr	U
By whim inspir'd or haply prest wi' care	V
He left his bed and took his wayward route	E
And down by Simpson's wheel'd the left about	E
Whether impell'd by all directing Fate	E
To witness what I after shall narrate	E
Or whether rapt in meditation high	E
He wander'd out he knew not where or why	E
The drowsy Dungeon clock had number'd two and Wallace Tower had sworn the fact was true	W
The tide swoln firth with sullen sounding roar	X
Through the still night dash'd hoarse along the shore	X
All else was hush'd as Nature's clos d e'e	S
The silent moon shone high o'er tower and tree	S
The chilly frost beneath the silver beam	Y
Crept gently crusting o'er the glittering stream	Y
	-
	-
When lo on either hand the list'ning Bard	E
The clanging sugh of whistling wings is heard	E
Two dusky forms dart through the midnight air	V
Swift as the gos drives on the wheeling hare	V
Ane on th' Auld Brig his airy shape uprears	T
The other flutters o'er the rising piers	T
Our warlock Rhymer instantly dexcried	E
The Sprites that owre the Brigs of Ayr preside	E
That Bards are second sighted is nae joke	Z
And ken the lingo of the sp'ritual folk	Z
Fays Spunkies Kelpies a' they can explain them	A2
And even the very deils they brawly ken them	A2
Auld Brig appear'd of ancient Pictish race	T
The very wrinkles Gothic in his face	T
He seem'd as he wi' Time had warstl'd lang	B2
Yet teughly doure he bade an unco bang	B2
New Brig was buskit in a braw new coat	E
That he at Lon'on frae ane Adams got	E
In 's hand five taper staves as smooth 's a bead	E
Wi' virls and whirlygigums at the head	E
The Goth was stalking round with anxious search	C2
Spying the time worn flaws in every arch	D2
It chanc'd his new come neibor took his e'e	S
And e'en a vexed and angry heart had he	S
Wi' thieveless sneer to see his modish mien	E2
He down the water gies him this guid e'en	F2
	-
	-
AULD BRIG I doubt na frien' ye'll think ye're nae sheepshank	B2
Ance ye were streekit owre frae bank to bank	B2
But gin ye be a brig as auld as me	S
Tho' faith that date I doubt ye'll never see	S
There'll be if that day come I'll wad a boddle	S
Some fewer whigmaleeries in your noddle	S
	-
	-
NEW BRIG Auld Vandal ye but show your little mense	S
Just much about it wi' your scanty sense	S
Will your poor narrow foot path of a street	E
Where twa wheel barrows tremble when they meet	E
Your ruin'd formless bulk o' stane and lime	G2
Compare wi' bonie brigs o' modern time	G2
There's men of taste wou'd tak the Ducat stream	Y
Tho' they should cast the very sark and swim	H2
E'er they would grate their feelings wi' the view	W
O' sic an ugly Gothic hulk as you	W
	-
	-
AULD BRIG Conceited gowk puff'd up wi' windy pride	E
This mony a year I've stood the flood an' tide	E
And tho' wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn	F2
I'll be a brig when ye're a shapeless cairn	F2
As yet ye little ken about the matter	I2
But twa three winters will inform ye better	I2
When heavy dark continued a' day rains	S
Wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the plains	S
When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil	S
Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains boil	S
Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course	S
Or haunted Garpal draws his feeble source	S
Aroused by blustering winds an' spotting thowes	S
In mony a torrent down the snaw broo rowes	S
While crashing ice borne on the rolling spate	E
Sweeps dams an' mills an' brigs a' to the gate	E
And from Glenbuck down to the Ratton key	S
Auld Ayr is just one lengthen'd tumbling sea	S
Then down ye'll hurl deil nor ye never rise	S
And dash the gumlie jaups up to the pouring skies	S
A lesson sadly teaching to your cost	E
That Architecture's noble art is lost	E
	-
	-
NEW BRIG Fine architecture trowth I needs must say't o't	S
The L d be thankit that we've tint the gate o't	S
Gaunt ghastly ghaist alluring edifices	S
Hanging with threat'ning jut like precipices	S
O'er arching mouldy gloom inspiring coves	S
Supporting roofs fantastic stony groves	S
Windows and doors in nameless sculptures drest	S
With order symmetry or taste unblest	S
Forms like some bedlam Statuary's dream	Y
The craz'd creations of misguided whim	H2
Forms might be worshipp'd on the bended knee	S
And still the second dread command be free	S
Their likeness is not found on earth in air or sea	S
Mansions that would disgrace the building taste	S
Of any mason reptile bird or beast	S
Fit only for a doited monkish race	S
Or frosty maids forsworn the dear embrace	S
Or cuifs of later times wha held the notion	F2
That sullen gloom was sterling true devotion	F2
Fancies that our guid Brugh denies protection	F2
And soon may they expire unblest wi' resurrection	F2
	-
	-
AULD BRIG O ye my dear remember'd ancient yealings	S
Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings	S
Ye worthy Proveses an' mony a Bailie	S
Wha in the paths o' righteousness did toil aye	E
Ye dainty Deacons and ye douce Conveners	S
To whom our moderns are but causey cleaners	S
Ye godly Councils wha hae blest this town	F2
ye godly Brethren o' the sacred gown	F2
Wha meekly gie your hurdies to the smiters	S
And what would now be strange ye godly Writers	S
A' ye douce folk I've borne aboon the broo	S
Were ye but here what would ye say or do	S
How would your spirits groan in deep vexation	F2
To see each melancholy alteration	F2
And agonising curse the time and place	S
When ye begat the base degen'rate race	S
Nae langer rev'rend men their country's glory	S
In plain braid Scots hold forth a plain braid story	S
Nae langer thrifty citizens an' douce	S
Meet owre a pint or in the Council house	S
But staumrel corky headed graceless Gentry	S
The herryment and ruin of the country	S
Men three parts m	A2

Robert Burns

The Brigs Of Ayr Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Write your comment about The Brigs Of Ayr poem by Robert Burns

Recent Interactions*

New Poems

Popular Poets