Fear poems
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349. Song-Kenmure’s on and awa, Willie
© Robert Burns
O KENMURE’S on and awa, Willie,
O Kenmure’s on and awa:
An’ Kenmure’s lord’s the bravest lord
That ever Galloway saw.
330. Song-The Gallant Weaver
© Robert Burns
WHERE Cart rins rowin’ to the sea,
By mony a flower and spreading tree,
287. Song-The Battle of Sherramuir
© Robert Burns
“O CAM ye here the fight to shun,
Or herd the sheep wi’ me, man?
285. Song-I Gaed a Waefu’ Gate Yestreen
© Robert Burns
I GAED a waefu’ gate yestreen,
A gate, I fear, I’ll dearly rue;
264. Song-On a Bank of Flowers
© Robert Burns
ON a bank of flowers, in a summer day,
For summer lightly drest,
218. Song-Talk of him that’s Far Awa
© Robert Burns
MUSING on the roaring ocean,
Which divides my love and me;
Wearying heav’n in warm devotion,
For his weal where’er he be.
208. Song-To the Weaver’s gin ye go
© Robert Burns
MY heart was ance as blithe and free
As simmer days were lang;
But a bonie, westlin weaver lad
Has gart me change my sang.
207. Song-I’m O’er Young to Marry yet
© Robert Burns
Chorus.—I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young,
I’m o’er young to marry yet;
I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin
To tak me frae my mammy yet.
The Long Love that in my Thought doth Harbour
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
The longë love that in my thought doth harbourAnd in mine hert doth keep his residence,Into my face presseth with bold pretenceAnd therein campeth, spreading his banner
The Lark and Her Young Ones with the Owner of a Field
© Wright Elizur
"Depend upon yourself alone," Has to a common proverb grown
137. Song-Farewell to the Banks of Ayr
© Robert Burns
THE GLOOMY night is gath’ring fast,
Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast,
136. Prayer-O Thou Dread Power
© Robert Burns
O THOU dread Power, who reign’st above,
I know thou wilt me hear,
When for this scene of peace and love,
I make this prayer sincere.
13. Song-Bonie Peggy Alison
© Robert Burns
Chor.—And I’ll kiss thee yet, yet,
And I’ll kiss thee o’er again:
And I’ll kiss thee yet, yet,
My bonie Peggy Alison.
Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford, the Shepherd, to the Estates and Honours of his Ancestors
© William Wordsworth
High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.--The words of ancient time I thus translate,A festal strain that hath been silent long:--
The Prelude: Book 2: School-time (Continued)
© William Wordsworth
Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving muchUnvisited, endeavour'd to retraceMy life through its first years, and measured backThe way I travell'd when I first beganTo love the woods and fields; the passion yetWas in its birth, sustain'd, as might befal,By nourishment that came unsought, for still,From week to week, from month to month, we liv'dA round of tumult: duly were our gamesProlong'd in summer till the day-light fail'd;No chair remain'd before the doors, the benchAnd threshold steps were empty; fast asleepThe Labourer, and the old Man who had sate,A later lingerer, yet the revelryContinued, and the loud uproar: at last,When all the ground was dark, and the huge cloudsWere edged with twinkling stars, to bed we went,With weary joints, and with a beating mind
11. Song-Here’s to thy health, my bonie lass
© Robert Burns
HERE’S to thy health, my bonie lass,
Gude nicht and joy be wi’ thee;
The Prelude: Book 1: Childhood and School-time
© William Wordsworth
--Was it for thisThat one, the fairest of all Rivers, lov'dTo blend his murmurs with my Nurse's song,And from his alder shades and rocky falls,And from his fords and shallows, sent a voiceThat flow'd along my dreams? For this, didst Thou,O Derwent! travelling over the green PlainsNear my 'sweet Birthplace', didst thou, beauteous StreamMake ceaseless music through the night and dayWhich with its steady cadence, temperingOur human waywardness, compos'd my thoughtsTo more than infant softness, giving me,Among the fretful dwellings of mankind,A knowledge, a dim earnest, of the calmThat Nature breathes among the hills and groves
Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
© William Wordsworth
The child is father of the man;And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up")
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798
© William Wordsworth
Five years have past; five summers, with the lengthOf five long winters! and again I hearThese waters, rolling from their mountain-springsWith a soft inland murmur
