Robert Burns Poems

  • 301.  
    O DEATH, had'st thou but spar'd his life,
    Whom we this day lament, We freely wad exchanged the wife,
  • 302.  
    WHEN Princes and Prelates,
    And hot-headed zealots, A' Europe had set in a low, a low,
  • 303.  
    THE LADDIES by the banks o' Nith
    Wad trust his Grace 1 wi a', Jamie; But he'll sair them, as he sair'd the Kingâ??
  • 304.  
    BRAW, braw lads on Yarrow-braes,
    They rove amang the blooming heather; But Yarrow braes, nor Ettrick shaws
  • 305.  
    O wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
    O wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar? Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be drawn in a car,
  • 306.  
    O THOU pale orb that silent shines
    While care-untroubled mortals sleep! Thou seest a wretch who inly pines.
  • 307.  
    Chorusâ??Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,
    Mally's modest and discreet; Mally's rare, Mally's fair,
  • 308.  
    Chorus.â??O lovely Polly Stewart,
    O charming Polly Stewart, There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May,
  • 309.  
    O, were my love yon lilac fair
    Wi' purple blossoms to the spring, And I a bird to shelter there,
  • 310.  
    'TWAS in the seventeen hunder year
    O' grace, and ninety-five, That year I was the wae'est man
  • 311.  
    O POORTITH cauld, and restless love,
    Ye wrack my peace between ye; Yet poortith a' I could forgive,
  • 312.  
    DAUGHTER of Chaos' doting years,
    Nurse of ten thousand hopes and fears, Whether thy airy, insubstantial shade
  • 313.  
    SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough,
    Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain, See aged Winter, 'mid his surly reign,
  • 314.  
    Tune - "Invercauld's Reel, or Strathspey."
    Choir. - O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
  • 315.  
    THE SOLEMN League and Covenant
    Now brings a smile, now brings a tear; But sacred Freedom, too, was theirs:
  • 316.  
    'Husband, husband, cease your strife,
    Nor longer idly rave, Sir; Tho' I am your wedded wife
  • 317.  
    There was three kings unto the east,
    Three kings both great and high, And they hae sworn a solemn oath
  • 318.  
    THERE'S a youth in this city, it were a great pity
    That he from our lassies should wander awa'; For he's bonie and braw, weel-favor'd witha',
  • 319.  
    ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire,
    And waste my soul with care; But ah! how bootless to admire,
  • 320.  
    STAY my charmer, can you leave me?
    Cruel, cruel to deceive me; Well you know how much you grieve me;
  • 321.  
    FOR thee is laughing Nature gay,
    For thee she pours the vernal day; For me in vain is Nature drest,
  • 322.  
    STRAIT is the spot and green the sod
    From whence my sorrows flow; And soundly sleeps the ever dear
  • 323.  
    CURS'D be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
    The crouching vassal to a tyrant wife! Who has no will but by her high permission,
  • 324.  
    HEAR, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,
    Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's;â?? If there's a hole in a' your coats,
  • 325.  
    O RAGING Fortune's withering blast
    Has laid my leaf full low, O! O raging Fortune's withering blast
  • 326.  
    MY lord, I know your noble ear
    Woe ne'er assails in vain; Embolden'd thus, I beg you'll hear
  • 327.  
    WHEN dear Clarinda, 1 matchless fair,
    First struck Sylvander's raptur'd view, He gaz'd, he listened to despair,
  • 328.  
    DOES haughty Gaul invasion threat?
    Then let the louns beware, Sir; There's wooden walls upon our seas,
  • 329.  
    SIR, as your mandate did request,
    I send you here a faithfu' list, O' gudes an' gear, an' a' my graith,
  • 330.  
    O THOU who kindly dost provide
    For every creature's want! We bless Thee, God of Nature wide,
  • 331.  
    WHEN chill November's surly blast
    Made fields and forests bare, One ev'ning, as I wander'd forth
  • 332.  
    LOUD blaw the frosty breezes,
    The snaws the mountains cover; Like winter on me seizes,
  • 333.  
    In Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men,
    And proper young lasses and a', man; But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals,
  • 334.  
    PEG NICHOLSON was a good bay mare,
    As ever trod on airn; But now she's floating down the Nith,
  • 335.  
    THERE'S Death in the cup, so beware!
    Nay, moreâ??there is danger in touching; But who can avoid the fell snare,
  • 336.  
    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,
  • 337.  
    'And send the godly in a pet to pray.' - Pope
    O Thou, that in the heavens does dwell,
  • 338.  
    Chorusâ??O aye my wife she dang me,
    An' aft my wife she bang'd me, If ye gie a woman a' her will,
  • 339.  
    O Thou Great Being! what Thou art,
    Surpasses me to know; Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
  • 340.  
    AFAR 1 the illustrious Exile roams,
    Whom kingdoms on this day should hail; An inmate in the casual shed,
  • 341.  
    GRANT me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live,
    To see the miscreants feel the pains they give; Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air,
  • 342.  
    Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray,
    That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usherast in the day
  • 343.  
    OLD Winter, with his frosty beard,
    Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred: "What have I done of all the year,
  • 344.  
    THO' cruel fate should bid us part,
    Far as the pole and line, Her dear idea round my heart,
  • 345.  
    HAD I a cave on some wild distant shore,
    Where the winds howl to the wave's dashing roar: There would I weep my woes,
  • 346.  
    Wishfully I look and languish
    In that bonie face o' thine, And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
  • 347.  
    O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macnab?
    O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macnab? She's down in the yard, she's kissin the laird,
  • 348.  
    WHAT will I do gin my Hoggie die?
    My joy, my pride, my Hoggie! My only beast, I had nae mae,
  • 349.  
    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, -
  • 350.  
    IT was upon a Lammas night,
    When corn rigs are bonie, Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
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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