Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

41. Inscription At Friars' Carse Hermitage 11/15/2014
42. Epistle To Major Logan 11/15/2014
43. Song—gudewife, Count The Lawin 11/15/2014
44. Lines Of John M'Murdo, Esq. 11/15/2014
45. Song—behold The Hour, Etc. (Second Version) 11/15/2014
46. Elegy On The Year 1788 11/15/2014
47. The Libeller's Self-Reproof 11/15/2014
48. Epitaph On John Busby, Esq., Tinwald Downs 11/15/2014
49. Inscription On Mr. Syme's Crystal Goblet 11/15/2014
50. Mr. William Smellie: A Sketch 11/15/2014
51. Song—the Charms Of Lovely Davies 11/15/2014
52. Epistle To James Tennant Of Glenconner 11/15/2014
53. Epistle On J. Lapraik 11/15/2014
54. Lines To John M'Murdo Of Drumlanrig 11/15/2014
55. Song—poortith Cauld And Restless Love 11/15/2014
56. Song—fragment—leezie Lindsay 11/15/2014
57. Song—the Dumfries Volunteers 11/15/2014
58. Burlesque Lament Fo Wm. Creech's Absence 11/15/2014
59. Epitaph On A Noisy Polemic 11/15/2014
60. Song—i'Ll Meet Thee On The Lea Rig 11/15/2014
61. Extempore Reply To An Invitation 11/15/2014
62. On The Death Of Robert Dundas, Esq., Of Arniston 11/15/2014
63. Song—bonie Dundee: A Fragment 11/15/2014
64. Epitaph On A Noted Coxcomb 11/15/2014
65. Song—lady Onlie, Honest Luckie 11/15/2014
66. Versicles On Sign-Posts 11/15/2014
67. Song—kenmure's On And Awa, Willie 11/15/2014
68. Song—raging Fortune: A Fragment 11/15/2014
69. The Rantin Dog, The Daddie O'T 11/15/2014
70. Song—carle, An' The King Come 11/15/2014
71. Song—tam Glen 11/15/2014
72. On Seeing Mrs. Kemble In Yarico 11/15/2014
73. Elegy On The Death Of Sir James Hunter Blair 11/15/2014
74. Song—the Braes O' Killiecrankie 11/15/2014
75. Lines On The Fall Of Fyers 11/15/2014
76. Epigram On Miss Fontenelle 11/15/2014
77. Lines Inscribed Under Fergusson's Portrait 11/15/2014
78. Lines Inscribed Under Fergusson's Portrait 11/15/2014
79. Versified Note To Dr. Mackenzie, Mauchline 11/15/2014
80. Song—the Battle Of Sherramuir 11/15/2014

Comments about Robert Burns

  • alyssia (1/15/2018 3:26:00 PM)

    i go to practise my poem

    8 person liked.
    7 person did not like.
  • Billy (1/15/2018 3:42:00 AM)

    Hey guys yeeeeybyeshksgusmvmshgs

  • Lelld (12/21/2017 2:34:00 AM)

    Very traditional for my country

  • h dog (11/21/2017 10:49:00 AM)

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

  • h dog (11/21/2017 10:48:00 AM)

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

  • 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.

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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