234. A Mother’s Lament for her Son’s Death (Robert Burns Poems)
FATE gave the word, the arrow sped, And pierc'd my darling's heart; And with him all the joys are fled ...
FATE gave the word, the arrow sped, And pierc'd my darling's heart; And with him all the joys are fled ...
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fair! How can ye chant, ye little birds, ...
ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786 Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil ...
I MURDER hate by flood or field, Tho' glory's name may screen us; In wars at home I'll spend my ...
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