Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

321. Written By Somebody On The Window Of An Inn At Stirling 10/25/2014
322. The Vision 10/25/2014
323. On The Seas And Far Away 10/24/2014
324. Sweet Afton 10/24/2014
325. Song—by Allan Stream 11/15/2014
326. Farewell To Eliza 10/25/2014
327. Song—the Winter Of Life 11/15/2014
328. To John Kennedy, Dumfries House 10/25/2014
329. A Grace After Dinner 10/24/2014
330. Inscription To Chloris 10/24/2014
331. Stanzas On Naething 11/14/2014
332. Song—braving Angry Winer's Storms 11/14/2014
333. The Song Of Death 10/24/2014
334. I Murder Hate 10/24/2014
335. Lines Written On A Bank-Note 11/15/2014
336. Ballad On Mr. Heron's Election—no. 1 11/15/2014
337. My Highland Lassie, O 11/15/2014
338. Nature's Law: A Poem 10/24/2014
339. Ballad On The American War 10/25/2014
340. Epigram On A Suicide 10/24/2014
341. A Grace After Dinner 10/24/2014
342. A Grace After Meat 10/24/2014
343. Song—farewell To The Highlands 10/24/2014
344. 357. A Grace Before Dinner 10/24/2014
345. A Tippling Ballad—when Princes And Prelates, Etc. 10/24/2014
346. A Mother's Lament For Her Son's Death 10/24/2014
347. The Rights Of Women—spoken By Miss Fontenelle 10/24/2014
348. The Soldier's Return: A Ballad 10/25/2014
349. A Prayer In The Prospect Of Death 10/24/2014
350. The Henpecked Husband 10/27/2014
351. Sonnet On The Author's Birthday 10/24/2014
352. Lines To An Old Sweetheart 10/24/2014
353. 89. The Ordination 10/24/2014
354. Epitaph On William Muir 10/24/2014
355. The Ronalds Of The Bennals 3/29/2010
356. Whistle Ow'R The Lave O'T 3/29/2010
357. The Bold Princess Royal 3/29/2010
358. The Hairst O' Rettie 3/29/2010
359. Wha Is That At My Bower-Door 3/29/2010
360. My Eppie Macnab 3/29/2010

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

The Rigs O' Barley

It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonnie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held away to Annie:
The time flew by wi' tentless heed
Till 'tween the late and early,
Wi' sma' persuasion, she agreed
To see me thro' the barley.
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,

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