Robert Burns Poems

  • 451.  
    THE BLUDE-RED rose at Yule may blaw,
    The simmer lilies bloom in snaw, The frost may freeze the deepest sea;
  • 452.  
    LATE crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg,
    About to beg a pass for leave to beg; Dull, listless, teas'd, dejected, and deprest
  • 453.  
    GUDEWIFE,I MIND it weel in early date,
    When I was bardless, young, and blate, An' first could thresh the barn,
  • 454.  
    Sleep'st thou, or wakâ??st thou, fairest creature?
    Rosy morn now lifts his eye, Numbering ilka bud which Nature
  • 455.  
    THERE 1 was a lad was born in Kyle,
    But whatna day o' whatna style, I doubt it's hardly worth the while
  • 456.  
    Yestreen I had a pint o' wine,
    A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
  • 457.  
    O WERE my love yon Lilac fair,
    Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring, And I, a bird to shelter there,
  • 458.  
    WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
    What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man? Bad luck on the penny that tempted my minnie
  • 459.  
    I HOLD it, sir, my bounden duty
    To warn you how that Master Tootie, Alias, Laird M'Gaun,
  • 460.  
    THERE lived a carl in Kellyburn Braes,
    Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; And he had a wife was the plague of his days,
  • 461.  
    WHY am I loth to leave this earthly scene?
    Have I so found it full of pleasing charms? Some drops of joy with draughts of ill betweenâ??
  • 462.  
    Chorusâ??Long, long the night,
    Heavy comes the morrow While my soul's delight
  • 463.  
    DEAR â??â??â??, I'll gie ye some advice,
    You'll tak it no uncivil: You shouldna paint at angels mair,
  • 464.  
    ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
    Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me rememberâ??
  • 465.  
    THE HEATHER was blooming, the meadows were mawn,
    Our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at the dawn, O'er moors and o'er mosses and mony a glen,
  • 466.  
    HUMID seal of soft affections,
    Tenderest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections,
  • 467.  
    THOU flatt'ring mark of friendship kind,
    Still may thy pages call to mind The dear, the beauteous donor;
  • 468.  
    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,
  • 469.  
    Scots, wha hae wi Wallace bled,
    Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed
  • 470.  
    THAT there is a falsehood in his looks,
    I must and will deny: They tell their Master is a knave,
  • 471.  
    A Song of Similes
    Tune - 'If he be a Butcher neat and trim.'
  • 472.  
    HOW pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon,
    With green spreading bushes and flow'rs blooming fair! But the boniest flow'r on the banks of the Devon
  • 473.  
    EXPECT na, sir, in this narration,
    A fleechin, fleth'rin Dedication, To roose you up, an' ca' you guid,
  • 474.  
    YE gallants bright, I rede you right,
    Beware o' bonie Ann; Her comely face sae fu' o' grace,
  • 475.  
    As I was a-wand'ring ae morning in spring,
    I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing; And as he was singin', thir words he did say, -
  • 476.  
    NO more of your guests, be they titled or not,
    And cookery the first in the nation; Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit,
  • 477.  
    I am nae poet, in a sense,
    But just a rhymer like by chance, An' hae to learning nae pretence;
  • 478.  
    O Thou Great Being! what Thou art,
    Surpasses me to know; Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
  • 479.  
    O HOW shall I, unskilfu', try
    The poet's occupation? The tunefu' powers, in happy hours,
  • 480.  
    I'M now arrivedâ??thanks to the gods!â??
    Thro' pathways rough and muddy, A certain sign that makin roads
  • 481.  
    1 Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
    2 Ae fareweel, and then forever! 3 Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
  • 482.  
    A' YE wha live by sowps o' drink,
    A' ye wha live by crambo-clink, A' ye wha live and never think,
  • 483.  
    LET not Woman e'er complain
    Of inconstancy in love; Let not Woman e'er complain
  • 484.  
    Tune - "Galla Water."
    Altho' my bed were in yon muir,
  • 485.  
    CEASE, ye prudes, your envious railing,
    Lovely Burns has charmsâ??confess: True it is, she had one failing,
  • 486.  
    HEY, the dusty Miller,
    And his dusty coat, He will win a shilling,
  • 487.  
    MY 1 heart is wae, and unco wae,
    To think upon the raging sea, That roars between her gardens green
  • 488.  
    TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
    And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr; But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river,
  • 489.  
    I GAT your letter, winsome Willie;
    Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawlie; Tho' I maun say't, I wad be silly,
  • 490.  
    ASK why God made the gem so small?
    And why so huge the granite?â?? Because God meant mankind should set
  • 491.  
    YOUR News and Review, sir.
    I've read through and through, sir, With little admiring or blaming;
  • 492.  
    The gloomy night is gath'ring fast,
    Loud roars the wild inconstant blast; Yon murky cloud is filled with rain,
  • 493.  
    OF Lordly acquaintance you boast,
    And the Dukes that you dined wi' yestreen, Yet an insect's an insect at most,
  • 494.  
    THOU, Nature, partial Nature, I arraign;
    Of thy caprice maternal I complain. The peopled fold thy kindly care have found,
  • 495.  
    "O CAM ye here the fight to shun,
    Or herd the sheep wi' me, man? Or were ye at the Sherra-moor,
  • 496.  
    HOW can my poor heart be glad,
    When absent from my sailor lad; How can I the thought foregoâ??
  • 497.  
    YE true "Loyal Natives" attend to my song
    In uproar and riot rejoice the night long; From Envy and Hatred your corps is exempt,
  • 498.  
    WHILE new-ca'd kye rowte at the stake
    An' pownies reek in pleugh or braik, This hour on e'enin's edge I take,
  • 499.  
    Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
    The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
  • 500.  
    WHY, why tell thy lover
    Bliss he never must enjoy"? Why, why undeceive him,
Total 505 poems written by Robert Burns

Poem of the day

 by Sara Teasdale

The moon is a curving flower of gold,
The sky is still and blue;
The moon was made for the sky to hold,
And I for you;
The moon is a flower without a stem,
The sky is luminous;
Eternity was made for them,
To-night for us.

Read complete poem

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