Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

441. Lament Of Mary, Queen Of Scots, On The Approach Of Spring 1/1/2004
442. O Were My Love Yon Lilac Fair 1/4/2003
443. The Tear-Drop 1/1/2004
444. To A Mountain Daisy 12/31/2002
445. Lass That Made The Bed To Me, The 12/31/2002
446. Mary Morison 12/31/2002
447. Here's A Health To Them That's Awa 5/13/2001
448. Ca' The Yowes To The Knowes 5/13/2001
449. O, Were My Love 12/31/2002
450. Bonie Wee Thing, The 12/31/2002
451. Scotch Drink 12/31/2002
452. Death And Dying Words Of Poor Mailie, The 12/31/2002
453. Epitaph On Holy Willie 5/13/2001
454. Up In The Morning Early 12/31/2002
455. The Rigs O' Barley 1/1/2004
456. Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning 12/31/2002
457. Winter: A Dirge 12/31/2002
458. Despondency -- An Ode 5/13/2001
459. Handsome Nell 5/13/2001
460. Love In The Guise Of Friendship 3/29/2010
461. Battle Of Sherramuir, The 12/31/2002
462. Scots, Wha Hae Wi' Wallace Bled 1/13/2003
463. Now Spring Has Clad The Grove In Green 12/31/2002
464. Banks O' Doon, The 12/31/2002
465. Jean 1/4/2003
466. Anna, Thy Charms 1/1/2004
467. Birks Of Aberfeldie, The 12/31/2002
468. Cotter's Saturday Night, The 12/31/2002
469. Lament For Culloden 1/4/2003
470. My Bonnie Mary 1/4/2003
471. Scots Wha Hae 12/31/2002
472. Ye Banks And Braes O'Bonnie Doon 1/13/2003
473. The Farewell 1/4/2003
474. For A' That And A' That 5/13/2001
475. My Highland Lassie, O 12/31/2002
476. In The Character Of A Ruined Farmer 12/31/2002
477. John Anderson My Jo 1/3/2003
478. Bonie Doon 5/13/2001
479. I Dream'D I Lay 12/31/2002
480. Fareweel To A'Our Scottish Fame 1/13/2003
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

The Rigs O' Barley

It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonnie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held away to Annie:
The time flew by wi' tentless heed
Till 'tween the late and early,
Wi' sma' persuasion, she agreed
To see me thro' the barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,

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