Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

281. The Inventory 11/15/2014
282. Song—i'M O'Er Young To Marry Yet 11/14/2014
283. Epitaph On A Lap-Dog 11/14/2014
284. The Laddie's Dear Sel' 10/27/2014
285. Jamie, Come Try Me 10/27/2014
286. The Lament 11/15/2014
287. Epitaph On My Ever Honoured Father 10/24/2014
288. Epigram On A Country Laird (Cardoness) 11/15/2014
289. Song—on A Bank Of Flowers 11/15/2014
290. 379. Song—fragment—love For Love 10/24/2014
291. Lovely Polly Stewart 10/25/2014
292. Epitaph For William Nicol, High School, Edinburgh 10/25/2014
293. Yon Wild Mossy Mountains 10/25/2014
294. Birthday Ode For 31st December, 1787 10/25/2014
295. The Whistle: A Ballad 10/25/2014
296. My Girl She's Airy: A Fragment 10/24/2014
297. Inscription To Chloris 10/24/2014
298. A Grace After Dinner 10/24/2014
299. A Grace After Dinner 10/24/2014
300. Song—whistle And I'Ll Come To You 11/15/2014
301. Fragment Of Song—&Quot;My Jean!&Quot; 11/15/2014
302. Song—the Highland Balou 11/14/2014
303. Stanzas On Naething 11/14/2014
304. Lines Written On A Bank-Note 11/15/2014
305. My Bonie Bell 10/24/2014
306. How Cruel Are The Parents 10/24/2014
307. Another On The Said Occasion 10/25/2014
308. To Ruin 10/25/2014
309. Inconstancy In Love 10/25/2014
310. Thine Am I, My Faithful Fair 10/25/2014
311. A Prayer Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish 10/25/2014
312. The Bookworms 11/14/2014
313. Bonie Jean: A Ballad 11/15/2014
314. Address To Beelzebub 11/15/2014
315. Epigram On Politics 11/15/2014
316. Ode For General Washington's Birthday 11/14/2014
317. Poem On Pastoral Poetry 10/24/2014
318. My Father Was A Farmer: A Ballad 10/24/2014
319. Mally's Meek, Mally's Sweet 10/25/2014
320. Song—my Wife's A Winsome Wee Thing 11/15/2014
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

John Anderson My Jo

John Anderson my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonny brow was brent;
But now your brow is bled, John,
Your locks are like the straw,
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my jo!

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