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''Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory.''
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Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scottish poet. Scots Wha Hae (l. 1-4). . .
Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and Jo...
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''Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Let us do, or die!''
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Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scottish poet. Scots Wha Hae (l. 21-24). . .
Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and ...
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''But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white—then melts for ever;''
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Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scottish poet. Tam o' Shanter (l. 59-62). . .
Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and...
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''Ae market night,
Tam had got planted unco right,
Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,
Wi' reaming swats that drank divinely;''
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Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scottish poet. Tam o' Shanter (l. 37-40). . .
Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and...
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''our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.''
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Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scottish poet. Tam o' Shanter (l. 10-12). . .
Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and...
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''The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure:
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious!''
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Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scottish poet. Tam o' Shanter (l. 56-58). . .
Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and...
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''Ae spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her ain grey tail:''
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Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scottish poet. Tam o' Shanter (l. 215-216). . .
Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode a...
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''Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,
To think how mony counsels sweet,
How mony lengthen'd, sage advices,
The husband frae the wife despises!''
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Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scottish poet. Tam o' Shanter (l. 33-36). . .
Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and...
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Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care?
Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
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Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scottish poet. The Banks of Doon (l. 1-8). . .
New Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1950. Helen Gardner, ed. (197...
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''If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,
One cordial in this melancholy vale,
'T is when a youthful, loving, modest pair
In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,''
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Robert Burns (1759-1796), Scottish poet. The Cotter's Saturday Night (l. 77-80). . .
Family Book of Best Loved Poems, The. David L. George, ed. (1...
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Banks O' Doon, The
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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.
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Poets
