Robert Burns Poems

Hit Title Date Added
251.
Song—fragment—there Was A Bonie Lass

THERE was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass,
And she lo'ed her bonie laddie dear;
Till War's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms,
Wi' mony a sigh and tear.
...

252.
Address To The Unco Guid

O YE wha are sae guid yoursel',
Sae pious and sae holy,
Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Your neibours' fauts and folly!
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
...

253.
The Solemn League And Covenant

THE SOLEMN League and Covenant
Now brings a smile, now brings a tear;
But sacred Freedom, too, was theirs:
If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneer
...

254.
The Banks Of The Devon

HOW pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon,
With green spreading bushes and flow'rs blooming fair!
But the boniest flow'r on the banks of the Devon
Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.
Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower,
...

255.
The Epitaph On Captain Matthew Henderson

STOP, passenger! my story's brief,
And truth I shall relate, man;
I tell nae common tale o' grief,
...

256.
Song—&Quot;Indeed Will I,&Quot; Quo' Findlay

"WHA is that at my bower-door?"
"O wha is it but Findlay!"
"Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here:"
"Indeed maun I," quo' Findlay;
...

257.
Fragment Of Song—the Night Was Still

THE NIGHT was still, and o'er the hill
The moon shone on the castle wa';
The mavis sang, while dew-drops hang
Around her on the castle wa';
Sae merrily they danced the ring
Frae eenin' till the cock did craw;
And aye the o'erword o' the spring
Was "Irvine's bairns are bonie a'."
...

258.
Epistle To Davie, A Brother Poet

WHILE winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw,
An' bar the doors wi' driving snaw,
An' hing us owre the ingle,
I set me down to pass the time,
...

259.
Monody On A Lady, Famed For Her Caprice

HOW cold is that bosom which folly once fired,
How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd;
How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired,
How dull is that ear which to flatt'ry so listen'd!
...

260.
On Glenriddell's Fox Breaking His Chain

THOU, Liberty, thou art my theme;
Not such as idle poets dream,
Who trick thee up a heathen goddess
...