Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

121. Epistle To William Simson 10/25/2014
122. Epitaph For James Smith 11/15/2014
123. Epitaph For Mr. Gabriel Richardson, Brewer 10/25/2014
124. Epitaph For Mr. W. Cruickshank 11/6/2014
125. Epitaph For Mr. William Michie, Schoolmaster 11/6/2014
126. Epitaph For Robert Aiken, Esq. 10/27/2014
127. Epitaph For William Nicol, High School, Edinburgh 10/25/2014
128. Epitaph On &Quot;Wee Johnnie&Quot; 10/25/2014
129. Epitaph On A Henpecked Squire 10/25/2014
130. Epitaph On A Lap-Dog 11/14/2014
131. Epitaph On A Noisy Polemic 11/15/2014
132. Epitaph On A Noted Coxcomb 11/15/2014
133. Epitaph On Holy Willie 5/13/2001
134. Epitaph On James Grieve 10/25/2014
135. Epitaph On John Busby, Esq., Tinwald Downs 11/15/2014
136. Epitaph On John Dove, Innkeeper 10/25/2014
137. Epitaph On John Rankine 10/25/2014
138. Epitaph On My Ever Honoured Father 10/24/2014
139. Epitaph On The Same 10/25/2014
140. Epitaph On William Hood, Senior 11/6/2014
141. Epitaph On William Muir 10/24/2014
142. Extempore Reply To An Invitation 11/15/2014
143. Fareweel To A'Our Scottish Fame 1/13/2003
144. Farewell To Eliza 10/25/2014
145. Farewell To The Banks Of Ayr 10/27/2014
146. Fickle Fortune: A Fragment 10/25/2014
147. First Six Verses Of The Ninetieth Psalm Versified, The 5/13/2001
148. For A' That 3/29/2010
149. For A' That And A' That 5/13/2001
150. Forlorn, My Love, No Comfort Here 10/25/2014
151. Frae The Friends And Land I Love 10/25/2014
152. Fragment Of Song—&Quot;My Jean!&Quot; 11/15/2014
153. Fragment Of Song—the Night Was Still 11/15/2014
154. Fragment—altho' He Has Left Me 10/25/2014
155. Fragment—her Flwoing Locks 11/6/2014
156. Fragment—wee Willie Gray 10/25/2014
157. From Lines To William Simson 5/13/2001
158. Go Fetch To Me A Pint 3/29/2010
159. Go On, Sweet Bird, And Soothe My Care 10/25/2014
160. Grace Before And After Meat 10/27/2014
Best Poem of Robert Burns

A Red, Red Rose

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

Read the full of A Red, Red Rose

Banks O' Doon, The

Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.

[Hata Bildir]