Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

1. The Lass Of Cessnock Banks 1/1/2004
2. The Death And Dying Words Of Poor Mailie 1/1/2004
3. Rigs O' Barley, The 12/31/2002
4. The Banks O' Doon 1/4/2003
5. The Tarbolton Lasses 1/3/2003
6. The Ronalds Of The Bennals 3/29/2010
7. Airlin's Fine Braes 3/29/2010
8. 148. To Miss Logan, With Beattie's Poems 10/24/2014
9. Elegy On The Death Of Robert Ruisseaux 10/24/2014
10. Rhyming Reply To A Note From Captain Riddell 10/24/2014
11. To Miss Ferrier, Enclosing Elegy On Sir J. H. Blair 10/24/2014
12. Elegy On Willie Nicol's Mare 10/24/2014
13. Willie Brew'D A Peck O' Maut 10/24/2014
14. To Alex. Cunningham, Esq., Writer, Edinburgh 10/24/2014
15. Impromptu On Dumourier's Desertion Of The French Republican Army 10/25/2014
16. Epistle To William Simson 10/25/2014
17. Epistle To The Rev. John M'Math 10/25/2014
18. Epitaph On John Rankine 10/25/2014
19. Lines On The Author's Death 10/25/2014
20. Lines Inscribed In A Lady's Pocket Almanack 10/25/2014
21. Fragment—altho' He Has Left Me 10/25/2014
22. Epitaph For Mr. Gabriel Richardson, Brewer 10/25/2014
23. To John Kennedy, Dumfries House 10/25/2014
24. The Captain's Lady 10/25/2014
25. Lament For James, Earl Of Glencairn 10/25/2014
26. Second Epistle To J. Lapraik 10/25/2014
27. Lines Written Under The Picture Of Miss Burns 10/25/2014
28. Epigram On An Innkeeper (&Quot;The Marquis&Quot;) 10/25/2014
29. Epigram—thanks For A National Victory 10/25/2014
30. Epistle From Esopus To Maria 10/25/2014
31. Prologue, Spoken By Mr. Woods At Edinburgh 10/25/2014
32. Second Epistle To Robert Graham, Esq., Of Fintry 10/25/2014
33. The Gowden Locks Of Anna 10/25/2014
34. The Fête Champêtre 10/25/2014
35. Fragment—wee Willie Gray 10/25/2014
36. To Mr. M'Adam, Of Craigen-Gillan 10/25/2014
37. To Gavin Hamilton, Esq., Mauchline, Recommending A Boy 10/27/2014
38. Epitaph For Robert Aiken, Esq. 10/27/2014
39. Sonnet On The Death Of Robert Riddell 10/27/2014
40. Hey, The Dusty Miller 10/27/2014

Comments about Robert Burns

  • Alex McD (8/15/2018 2:19:00 PM)

    My father sang red red rose to my mother on their wedding day in 1963 and I read it to my wife on our wedding day at Edinburgh castle in 1998

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  • Ruta Mohapatra Ruta Mohapatra (7/3/2018 12:33:00 PM)

    ' A red, red rose' is my favorite Burns poem. So romantic!

  • Brenda breunig (5/12/2018 7:51:00 PM)

    About wonder things like roses

  • Peter Williams (4/30/2018 4:43:00 AM)

    Sounds like a versión of the Selkirk Grace

  • Wayne Kelder (3/19/2018 6:13:00 PM)

    My father-in-law used to recite a poem every thanksgiving about we have food and we have drink and so the Lord we thanketh. Does anyone know if that is Robert Burns?

  • Margaret-Anne Turner (2/27/2018 5:09:00 PM)

    A short poem re: God and reversing the letters to dog and how dog worships his master puts man to shame.

  • glenda barber (2/9/2018 1:01:00 PM)

    Apoem containing the words Birchwood on a dark night

  • anonymous (2/1/2018 11:14:00 AM)

    Hey,
    Is there any Robert burns poems on swimming?

  • robert burns (2/1/2018 8:03:00 AM)

    this is Robert Burnses ghost

  • emily (1/31/2018 3:23:00 AM)

    disliking yir poems mate catch yi

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.

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