91. The Vision (Robert Burns Poems)
THE SUN had clos'd the winter day, The curless quat their roarin play, And hunger'd maukin taen her way, To ...
THE SUN had clos'd the winter day, The curless quat their roarin play, And hunger'd maukin taen her way, To ...
WHEN chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare, One ev'ning, as I wander'd forth Along the banks of ...
THE SMILING Spring comes in rejoicing, And surly Winter grimly flies; Now crystal clear are the falling waters, And bonie ...
THE SIMPLE Bard, rough at the rustic plough, Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough; The chanting linnet, or the ...
O saw ye bonnie Lesley As she gaed o'er the Border? She's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther. ...
Green grow the rashes, O! Green grow the rashes, O! The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent amang ...
HAIL, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv'd! In chase o' thee, what crowds hae swerv'd Frae common sense, or sunk enerv'd 'Mang ...
UPON 1 a simmer Sunday morn When Nature's face is fair, I walked forth to view the corn, An' snuff ...
LET other heroes boast their scars, The marks of sturt and strife: And other poets sing of wars, The plagues ...
Chor.-Green grow the rashes, O; Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent amang ...
WEE, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' ...
On Turning her up in her Nest with the Plough Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, O what a panic's in ...
I mind me in the days departed, How often underneath the sun With childish bounds I used to run To ...
I am like, They tell me, my dear father. Broader brows Howbeit, upon a slenderer undergrowth Of delicate ...
TRUE genius, but true woman ! dost deny The woman's nature with a manly scorn And break away the gauds ...
THOU large-brained woman and large-hearted man, Self-called George Sand ! whose soul, amid the lions Of thy tumultuous senses, moans ...
A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne From year to year until I saw thy face, And sorrow after sorrow ...
The cypress stood up like a church That night we felt our love would hold, And saintly moonlight seemed to ...
Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright, Let temple burn, or flax; an ...
You don't believe -- I won't attempt to make ye: You are asleep -- I won't attempt to wake ye. ...
Pity would be no more, If we did not make somebody Poor; And Mercy no more could be. If all ...
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