Robert Burns Poems

YE flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
   How can ye blume sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
   And I sae fu' o' care!
...

AGAIN the silent wheels of time
Their annual round have driven,
And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime,
Are so much nearer Heaven.
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THIS day, Time winds th' exhausted chain;
To run the twelvemonth's length again:
I see, the old bald-pated fellow,
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
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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, -
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The Author's Only Pet Yowe

An Unco Mournfu' Tale
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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,
They carry the gree frae them a', man.
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Now simmer blinks on flow'ry braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays,
Come, let us spend the lightsome days
In the birks of Aberfeldie!
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O saw ye bonie Lesley
As she gaed o'er the Border?
She 's gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.
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It was a' for our rightfu' king
That we left fair Scotland's strand;
It was a' for our rightfu' king
...

Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray,
That lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usherast in the day
...