Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

121. Song—my Native Land Sae Far Awa 11/15/2014
122. Prayer—o Thou Dread Power 11/15/2014
123. Song—to Daunton Me 11/15/2014
124. Song—highland Harry Back Again 11/15/2014
125. Song—my Nanie's Awa 11/14/2014
126. Song—the Rigs O' Barley 11/14/2014
127. Scots Prologue For Mr. Sutherland 11/14/2014
128. The First Six Verses Of The Ninetieth Psalm Versified 11/14/2014
129. Epitaph For Mr. W. Cruickshank 11/6/2014
130. The Five Carlins: An Election Ballad 11/6/2014
131. O Leave Novels! 11/6/2014
132. Where Are The Joys I Have Met 10/27/2014
133. Epistle To Mrs. Scott Of Wauchope House 10/27/2014
134. Saw You My Dear, My Philly 10/27/2014
135. O Aye My Wife She Dang Me 10/27/2014
136. Inscription For An Alter Of Independence 10/25/2014
137. The Calf 10/25/2014
138. Epigram On Dr. Babington's Looks 10/25/2014
139. Sylvander To Clarinda 10/25/2014
140. Epitaph On A Henpecked Squire 10/25/2014
141. The Dean Of Faculty: A New Ballad 10/25/2014
142. Reply To An Announcement By J. Rankine 10/25/2014
143. Thou Gloomy December 10/25/2014
144. The Kirk Of Scotland's Alarm: A Ballad 10/25/2014
145. Epigram On Miss Davies 10/25/2014
146. The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata 10/24/2014
147. Pegasus At Wanlockhead 10/24/2014
148. Lines To Mr. John Kennedy 10/24/2014
149. Song—i Hae Been At Crookieden 9/9/2013
150. Epistle To William Simson 10/25/2014
151. Epigram—thanks For A National Victory 10/25/2014
152. On Seeing Mrs. Kemble In Yarico 11/15/2014
153. Elegy On Stella 11/15/2014
154. Song—the Captive Ribband 11/15/2014
155. Impromptu Lines To Captain Riddell 11/15/2014
156. Song—wandering Willie (Revised Version) 11/15/2014
157. News, Lassies, News 10/25/2014
158. Behold The Hour, The Boat, Arrive 10/25/2014
159. Epigram To Miss Ainslie In Church 10/27/2014
160. You'Re Welcome, Willie Stewart 10/27/2014

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

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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