Scottish poet & lyricist (1759-1796)
Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire,
That's a' the learning I desire.
ROBERT BURNS
First Epistle to John Lapraik
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met -- or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
ROBERT BURNS
Ae Fond Kiss
There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In every hour that passes, O:
What signifies the life o' man,
An 'twerna for the lasses, O.
ROBERT BURNS
Green Grow the Rashes, O
Some books are lies frae end to end.
ROBERT BURNS
Death and Dr. Hornbook
When Nature her great masterpiece designed,
And framed her last, best work, the human mind,
Her eye intent on all the wondrous plan,
She formed of various stuff the various Man.
ROBERT BURNS
To Robert Graham
Freedom and Whisky gang thegither!
ROBERT BURNS
The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer
Nae man can tether time or tide.
ROBERT BURNS
Tam o' Shanter
The heart benevolent and kind
The most resembles God.
ROBERT BURNS
A Winter Night
While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things,
The fate of empires and the fall of kings;
While quacks of State must each produce his plan,
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.
ROBERT BURNS
The Rights of Women
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley;
And leave us naught but grief and pain
For promised joy.
ROBERT BURNS
To a Mouse
But pleasures are like poppies spread--
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river--
A moment white -- then melts for ever.
ROBERT BURNS
Tam o' Shanter
The rank is but the guinea's stamp;
The man's the gowd for a' that!
ROBERT BURNS
For a' that and a' that
Oh, my Luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my Luve is like the melodie,
That's sweetly played in tune.
ROBERT BURNS
A Red, Red Rose
But facts are chiels that winna ding, and downa be disputed.
ROBERT BURNS
A Dream
This day, Time winds th' exhausted chain,
To run the twelvemonth's length again.
ROBERT BURNS
New Year's Day
A fig for those by law protected!
Liberty's a glorious feast!
Courts for cowards were erected,
Churches built to please the priest.
ROBERT BURNS
The Jolly Beggars
Anticipation forward points the view.
ROBERT BURNS
The Cotter's Saturday Night
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' auld lang syne?
ROBERT BURNS
Auld Lang Syne
To make a happy fire-side clime
To weans and wife,
That's the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.
ROBERT BURNS
To Dr. Blacklock
Her lips are like the cherries ripe
That sunny walls from Boreas screen.
They tempt the taste and charm the sight.
ROBERT BURNS
On Cessnock's Banks