On a Scotch Bard, gone to the West Indies by Robert Burns
A’ ye wha live by sowps o’ drink, A’ ye wha live by crambo-clink, A’ ye wha live and never think, Come, mourn wi’ me! Our billie ’s gien us a’ a jink, An’ owre the sea! Lament him a’ ye rantin core, Wha dearly like a random splore; Nae mair he’ll join the merry […]
Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots by Robert Burns
Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o’ daisies white Out o’er the grassy lea; Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams, And glads the azure skies; But nought can glad the weary wight That fast in durance lies. Now laverocks wake the merry morn Aloft on dewy wing; […]
Lament for James, Earl of Glencairn by Robert Burns
The wind blew hollow frae the hills, By fits the sun’s departing beam Look’d on the fading yellow woods, That wav’d o’er Lugar’s winding stream: Beneath a craigy steep, a Bard, Laden with years and meikle pain, In loud lament bewail’d his lord, Whom Death had all untimely ta’en. He lean’d him to an ancient […]
Impromptu on Dumourier’s Desertion of the French Republican Army by Robert Burns
You’re welcome to Despots, Dumourier; You’re welcome to Despots, Dumourier: How does Dampiere do? Ay, and Bournonville too? Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier? I will fight France with you, Dumourier; I will fight France with you, Dumourier; I will fight France with you, I will take my chance with you; By […]
Grace before and after Meat by Robert Burns
O Lord, when hunger pinches sore, Do thou stand us in stead, And send us, from thy bounteous store, A tup or wether head! Amen. — O Lord, since we have feasted thus, Which we so little merit, Let Meg now take away the flesh, And Jock bring in the spirit! Amen. ————— The End […]
Epitaph for Robert Aiken by Robert Burns
Know thou, O stranger to the fame Of this much lov’d, much honoured name! (For none that knew him need be told) A warmer heart death ne’er made cold. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world […]
Epistle to a Young Friend by Robert Burns
May—, 1786.I lang hae thought, my youthfu’ friend, A something to have sent you, Tho’ it should serve nae ither end Than just a kind memento: But how the subject-theme may gang, Let time and chance determine; Perhaps it may turn out a sang: Perhaps turn out a sermon. Ye’ll try the world soon, my […]
Address to Beelzebub by Robert Burns
Long life, my Lord, an’ health be yours, Unskaithed by hunger’d Highland boors; Lord grant me nae duddie, desperate beggar, Wi’ dirk, claymore, and rusty trigger, May twin auld Scotland o’ a life She likes—as butchers like a knife. Faith you and Applecross were right To keep the Highland hounds in sight: I doubt na! […]
A Grace after Meat by Robert Burns
Lord, we thank, and thee adore, For temporal gifts we little merit; At present we will ask no more— Let William Hislop give the spirit. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world poetry. Poetry Monster — […]
A Dream by Robert Burns
Guid-mornin’ to our Majesty! May Heaven augment your blisses On ev’ry new birth-day ye see, A humble poet wishes. My bardship here, at your Levee On sic a day as this is, Is sure an uncouth sight to see, Amang thae birth-day dresses Sae fine this day. I see ye’re complimented thrang, By mony a […]
A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton by Robert Burns
Expect na, sir, in this narration, A fleechin, fleth’rin Dedication, To roose you up, an’ ca’ you guid, An’ sprung o’ great an’ noble bluid, Because ye’re surnam’d like His Grace— Perhaps related to the race: Then, when I’m tir’d-and sae are ye, Wi’ mony a fulsome, sinfu’ lie, Set up a face how I […]
A Bard’s Epitaph by Robert Burns
Is there a whim-inspirèd fool, Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool, Let him draw near; And owre this grassy heap sing dool, And drap a tear. Is there a bard of rustic song, Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, That weekly this area throng, O, […]