392. Song-Poortith cauld and restless love (Robert Burns Poems)
O POORTITH cauld, and restless love, Ye wrack my peace between ye; Yet poortith a' I could forgive, An 'twere ...
O POORTITH cauld, and restless love, Ye wrack my peace between ye; Yet poortith a' I could forgive, An 'twere ...
GANE is the day, and mirk's the night, But we'll ne'er stray for faut o' light; Gude ale and bratdy's ...
NO 1 sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, "No storied urn nor animated bust;" This simple stone directs pale Scotia's ...
WEE, modest crimson-tippèd flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender ...
YE Irish lords, ye knights an' squires, Wha represent our brughs an' shires, An' doucely manage our affairs In parliament, ...
I HOLD it, sir, my bounden duty To warn you how that Master Tootie, Alias, Laird M'Gaun, Was here to ...
WHEN biting Boreas, fell and dour, Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r; When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r, Far south ...
THE SUN had clos'd the winter day, The curless quat their roarin play, And hunger'd maukin taen her way, To ...
DIRE was the hate at old Harlaw, That Scot to Scot did carry; And dire the discord Langside saw For ...
WHILE at the stook the shearers cow'r To shun the bitter blaudin' show'r, Or in gulravage rinnin scowr To pass ...
THE SIMPLE Bard, rough at the rustic plough, Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough; The chanting linnet, or the ...
ONCE fondly lov'd, and still remember'd dear, Sweet early object of my youthful vows, Accept this mark of friendship, warm, ...
GUID-MORNIN' to our Majesty! May Heaven augment your blisses On ev'ry new birth-day ye see, A humble poet wishes. My ...
ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786 Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil ...
AGAIN the silent wheels of time Their annual round have driven, And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime, Are so ...
I mind me in the days departed, How often underneath the sun With childish bounds I used to run To ...
My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! And yet they seem alive and quivering Against my tremulous hands which ...
I sit here on the 2nd floor hunched over in yellow pajamas still pretending to be a writer. some damned ...
death wants more death, and its webs are full: I remember my father's garage, how child-like I would brush the ...
If you had a friend strong, simple, true, Who knew your faults and who understood; Who believed in the very ...
Simple things are lovely things. Rain, dropping from the eaves, Is molten silver streaming down, Upon the fallen leaves. The ...
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