Robert Burns Poems on Night (79 Poems)

Address to the Devil (Robert Burns Poems)

1 O thou! whatever title suit thee,–2 Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie!3 Wha in yon cavern, grim an’ sootie,4 Clos’d under hatches,5 Spairges about the brunstane cootie6 To scaud poor wretches! 7 Hear me, Auld Hangie, for a wee,8 … Continue reading →

Address ToThe Devil (Robert Burns Poems)

O thou! whatever title suit thee,-Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie!Wha in yon cavern, grim an’ sootie,Clos’d under hatches,Spairges about the brunstane cootieTo scaud poor wretches!Hear me, Auld Hangie, for a wee,An’ let poor damned bodies be;I’m sure sma’ pleasure … Continue reading →

Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear (Robert Burns Poems)

Ah, woe is me, my mother dear!A man of strife ye’ve born me:For sair contention I maun bear;They hate, revile, and scorn me. I ne’er could lend on bill or band,That five per cent. might blest me;And borrowing, on the … Continue reading →

265. Song-Young Jockie was the Blythest Lad (Robert Burns Poem)

YOUNG Jockie was the blythest lad, In a’ our town or here awa; Fu’ blythe he whistled at the gaud, Fu’ lightly danc’d he in the ha’. He roos’d my een sae bonie blue, He roos’d my waist sae genty … Continue reading →

485. Song-How lang and dreary is the night (Robert Burns Poem)

HOW lang and dreary is the night When I am frae my Dearie; I restless lie frae e’en to morn Though I were ne’er sae weary. Chorus.-For oh, her lanely nights are lang! And oh, her dreams are eerie; And … Continue reading →

227. Verses on Friars’ Carse Hermitage (First Version) (Robert Burns Poems)

THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deckt in silken stole, Grave these maxims on thy soul. Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night, in darkness lost: Hope not sunshine … Continue reading →

69. Third Epistle to J. Lapraik (Robert Burns Poem)

GUID speed and furder to you, Johnie, Guid health, hale han’s, an’ weather bonie; Now, when ye’re nickin down fu’ cannie The staff o’ bread, May ye ne’er want a stoup o’ bran’y To clear your head. May Boreas never … Continue reading →

188. Song-Strathallan’s Lament (Robert Burns Poems)

THICKEST 1 night, o’erhang my dwelling! Howling tempests, o’er me rave! Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, Roaring by my lonely cave! Crystal streamlets gently flowing, Busy haunts of base mankind, Western breezes softly blowing, Suit not my distracted mind. In the … Continue reading →

507. Song-Bonie Peg-a-Ramsay (Robert Burns Poem)

CAULD is the e’enin blast, O’ Boreas o’er the pool, An’ dawin’ it is dreary, When birks are bare at Yule. Cauld blaws the e’enin blast, When bitter bites the frost, And, in the mirk and dreary drift, The hills … Continue reading →

233. Song-O were I on Parnassus Hill (Robert Burns Poem)

O, WERE I on Parnassus hill, Or had o’ Helicon my fill, That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee! But Nith maun be my Muse’s well, My Muse maun be thy bonie sel’, On … Continue reading →