Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

401. Tibbie Dunbar 1/13/2003
402. The Battle Of Sherramuir 1/1/2004
403. Paraphrase Of The First Psalm 12/31/2002
404. Rigs O' Barley, The 12/31/2002
405. Verses To Clarinda 12/31/2002
406. Ye Flowery Banks (Bonie Doon) 12/31/2002
407. The Bonie Wee Thing 1/1/2004
408. From Lines To William Simson 5/13/2001
409. Tear-Drop, The 12/31/2002
410. My Last Farewell To Stirling 3/29/2010
411. O Thou Dread Power 12/31/2002
412. Oh Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast 1/13/2003
413. Address Tothe Devil 3/29/2010
414. Epistle To J. Lapraik (Excerpt) 1/1/2004
415. Of A' The Airts 12/31/2002
416. Last May A Braw Wooer 12/31/2002
417. The Lass That Made The Bed To Me 1/1/2004
418. My Nannie, O 1/1/2004
419. The Wounded Hare 12/31/2002
420. Epistle To A Young Friend 3/29/2010
421. Tragic Fragment 12/31/2002
422. For A' That 3/29/2010
423. The Cotter's Saturday Night 1/3/2003
424. On A Bank Of Flowers 12/31/2002
425. Tam Glen 12/31/2002
426. Bonie Peggy Alison 12/31/2002
427. The Gloomy Night Is Gath'Ring Fast 1/3/2003
428. A Vision 11/15/2014
429. Holy Fair, The 12/31/2002
430. Hark! The Mavis 1/4/2003
431. Ye Flowery Banks 1/3/2003
432. To The Wood-Lark 12/31/2002
433. Thou Lingering Star 12/31/2002
434. Bonnie Lesley 5/13/2001
435. Lines On The Fall Of Fyers Near Loch Ness 12/31/2002
436. It Was A' For Our Rightful King 5/13/2001
437. Here's To Thy Health 12/31/2002
438. Duncan Gray 5/13/2001
439. First Six Verses Of The Ninetieth Psalm Versified, The 5/13/2001
440. Lament Of Mary, Queen Of Scots, On The Approach Of Spring 1/1/2004

Comments about Robert Burns

  • h dog (11/21/2017 10:48:00 AM)

    i hate poems i'm here for a English project ya'll r nerds

    10 person liked.
    23 person did not like.
  • Aina  Tumininu Aina Tumininu (11/22/2016 2:18:00 AM)

    I love these poems

  • Satan Satan (10/7/2016 3:56:00 AM)

    these poems r gr9 well done robert x

  • Kenneth Bowen (6/30/2016 2:31:00 AM)

    The audio for To a Mouse is atrocious. Wi' should be pronounced wi (as in with excluding the th sound) not W I; the same for na which stands for not, instead of N A. I can't believe you let this be published.
    I expected a true Scottish rendition, not someone's feeble attempt. Also, the reader knows absolutely nothing about reading poetry.

  • Cj Mcwilliam Cj Mcwilliam (1/25/2016 5:07:00 AM)

    Scotch is actually the Scottish word for Scots, but the language itself actually differs depending on which area you're in, I think Burns spoke Doric.

  • Robert Buchanan (7/17/2015 10:31:00 PM)

    Stephen he may well have been drinking Scotch but as Jennifer says the language is Scots or Auld Scots and it was not so much the language which was suppressed but the culture of the people, the music and the dress but to give two examples. Robert Burns was a remarkable man, his breath may have stopped but his voice is still heard.

  • Jennifer Barker (5/21/2015 12:02:00 PM)

    The language is actually Scots, not Scotch (as in the whisky) . It is a 800+ year old language.

  • Stephen W (1/1/2014 5:22:00 PM)

    @Ryan Walker: he was writing in Scotch, a perfectly respectable language, later suppressed by a tyrannical government.

  • Ryan Walker (1/26/2012 12:13:00 PM)

    Interesting. His poetry reminds me of when I read Mark Twain's Huckelberry Finn. It's a great use of broken and common language. It certainly adds an aspect to his poetry.

  • Ted Mohr (12/11/2009 11:35:00 AM)

    Your copy of Robert Burns' A Man's a Man for A' That appears to me to have left out one line in the final stanza which when entered would make the 5th and 6th lines read:
    For a' that, an' a' that,
    It’s cuming yet, for a' that,

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

John Anderson My Jo

John Anderson my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonny brow was brent;
But now your brow is bled, John,
Your locks are like the straw,
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my jo!

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