Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

481. John Barleycorn: A Ballad 5/13/2001
482. O, Were My Love 12/31/2002
483. Epitaph On William Muir 10/24/2014
484. Ae Fond Kiss 5/13/2001
485. Address To The Tooth-Ache 5/13/2001
486. Now Spring Has Clad The Grove In Green 12/31/2002
487. Green Grow The Rashes 1/13/2003
488. Willie Wastle 12/31/2002
489. To A Louse 12/31/2002
490. A Dedication 1/1/2004
491. Winter: A Dirge 12/31/2002
492. Lines To An Old Sweetheart 10/24/2014
493. The Soldier's Return: A Ballad 10/25/2014
494. The Farewell 1/4/2003
495. Coming Through The Rye 1/13/2003
496. Afton Water 5/13/2001
497. Tam O' Shanter 12/31/2002
498. A Bard's Epitaph 1/1/2004
499. To A Kiss 12/31/2002
500. Address To The Devil 5/13/2001
501. Address To A Haggis 12/31/2002
502. Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear 5/13/2001
503. Love In The Guise Of Friendship 3/29/2010
504. A Bottle And Friend 1/1/2004
505. A Dream 1/1/2004
506. Auld Lang Syne 5/13/2001
507. A Winter Night 5/13/2001
508. A Man's A Man For A' That 5/13/2001
509. A Fond Kiss 1/3/2003
510. To A Mouse 12/31/2002
511. My Heart's In The Highlands 1/13/2003
512. A Red, Red Rose 5/13/2001

Comments about Robert Burns

  • 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.

    47 person liked.
    32 person did not like.
  • 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

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.

[Report Error]