Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

281. Poem On Sensibility 10/25/2014
282. The Brigs Of Ayr 10/24/2014
283. Remorse: A Fragment 10/24/2014
284. A Grace After Dinner 10/24/2014
285. A Grace After Dinner 10/24/2014
286. Inscription To Chloris 10/24/2014
287. My Girl She's Airy: A Fragment 10/24/2014
288. The Whistle: A Ballad 10/25/2014
289. Birthday Ode For 31st December, 1787 10/25/2014
290. Song—the Highland Balou 11/14/2014
291. Stanzas On Naething 11/14/2014
292. Song—whistle And I'Ll Come To You 11/15/2014
293. Fragment Of Song—&Quot;My Jean!&Quot; 11/15/2014
294. Lines Written On A Bank-Note 11/15/2014
295. To Ruin 10/25/2014
296. Thine Am I, My Faithful Fair 10/25/2014
297. Inconstancy In Love 10/25/2014
298. Another On The Said Occasion 10/25/2014
299. My Bonie Bell 10/24/2014
300. How Cruel Are The Parents 10/24/2014
301. Thou Gloomy December 10/25/2014
302. Song—my Native Land Sae Far Awa 11/15/2014
303. O Aye My Wife She Dang Me 10/27/2014
304. The Bookworms 11/14/2014
305. Address To Beelzebub 11/15/2014
306. Epigram On Politics 11/15/2014
307. Bonie Jean: A Ballad 11/15/2014
308. A Prayer Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish 10/25/2014
309. Address Spoken By Miss Fontenelle 11/15/2014
310. Grace Before And After Meat 10/27/2014
311. Song—the Young Highland Rover 11/15/2014
312. Song—my Wife's A Winsome Wee Thing 11/15/2014
313. My Highland Lassie, O 11/15/2014
314. Song—composed In August 11/15/2014
315. Mally's Meek, Mally's Sweet 10/25/2014
316. Verses On A Parting Kiss 10/25/2014
317. My Father Was A Farmer: A Ballad 10/24/2014
318. Nature's Law: A Poem 10/24/2014
319. Impromptu On Carron Iron Works 10/25/2014
320. Man Was Made To Mourn: A Dirge 10/25/2014

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

To A Louse

On Seeing One on a Lady's Bonnet at Church

Ha! whare ye gaun' ye crowlin ferlie?
Your impudence protects you sairly;
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze and lace,
Tho faith! I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.

[Report Error]