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Poems begining by &

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248. Pegasus at Wanlockhead

© Robert Burns

WITH Pegasus upon a day,
Apollo, weary flying,
Through frosty hills the journey lay,
On foot the way was plying.

442. Remorseful Apology

© Robert Burns

THE FRIEND whom, wild from Wisdom’s way,
The fumes of wine infuriate send,
(Not moony madness more astray)
Who but deplores that hapless friend?

164. Song—A Bottle and Friend

© Robert Burns

HERE’S a bottle and an honest friend!
What wad ye wish for mair, man?
Wha kens, before his life may end,
What his share may be o’ care, man?

128. The Farewell

© Robert Burns

FAREWELL, old Scotia’s bleak domains,
Far dearer than the torrid plains,
Where rich ananas blow!
Farewell, a mother’s blessing dear!

478. Epigram on a Suicide

© Robert Burns

EARTH’D up, here lies an imp o’ hell,
Planted by Satan’s dibble;
Poor silly wretch, he’s damned himsel’,
To save the Lord the trouble.

328. Poem on Pastoral Poetry

© Robert Burns

Thy rural loves are Nature’s sel’;
Nae bombast spates o’ nonsense swell;
Nae snap conceits, but that sweet spell
O’ witchin love,
That charm that can the strongest quell,
The sternest move.

352. The Song of Death

© Robert Burns

FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
Now gay with the broad setting sun;
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties,
Our race of existence is run!

234. A Mother’s Lament for her Son’s Death

© Robert Burns

FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,
And pierc’d my darling’s heart;
And with him all the joys are fled
Life can to me impart.

386. The Rights of Women—Spoken by Miss Fontenelle

© Robert Burns

Now, thank our stars! those Gothic times are fled;
Now, well-bred men—and you are all well-bred—
Most justly think (and we are much the gainers)
Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners.

395. Sonnet on the Author’s Birthday

© Robert Burns

SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough,
Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain,
See aged Winter, ’mid his surly reign,
At thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow.

75. Halloween

© Robert Burns

UPON that night, when fairies light
On Cassilis Downans 2 dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;

447. Song—A red, red Rose

© Robert Burns

O MY Luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

25. My Father was a Farmer: A Ballad

© Robert Burns

MY father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O,
And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O;
He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne’er a farthing, O;
For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O.

68. The Holy Fair

© Robert Burns

UPON 1 a simmer Sunday morn
When Nature’s face is fair,
I walked forth to view the corn,
An’ snuff the caller air.

112. A Dream

© Robert Burns

Note 1. The American colonies had recently been lost. [back]
Note 2. King Henry V.—R. B. [back]
Note 3. Sir John Falstaff, vid. Shakespeare.—R. B. [back]
Note 4. Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain Royal sailor’s amour.—R. B. This was Prince William Henry, third son of George III, afterward King William IV. [back]

529. Song—How cruel are the parents

© Robert Burns

HOW cruel are the parents
Who riches only prize,
And to the wealthy booby
Poor Woman sacrifice!

123. Lines to an Old Sweetheart

© Robert Burns

ONCE fondly lov’d, and still remember’d dear,
Sweet early object of my youthful vows,
Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,
Friendship! ’tis all cold duty now allows.

179. To Miss Ferrier, enclosing Elegy on Sir J. H. Blair

© Robert Burns

NAE heathen name shall I prefix,
Frae Pindus or Parnassus;
Auld Reekie dings them a’ to sticks,
For rhyme-inspiring lasses.

253. Rhyming Reply to a Note from Captain Riddell

© Robert Burns

DEAR SIR, at ony time or tide,
I’d rather sit wi’ you than ride,
Though ’twere wi’ royal Geordie:
And trowth, your kindness, soon and late,
Aft gars me to mysel’ look blate—
The Lord in Heav’n reward ye!R. BURNS.ELLISLAND.

304. Song—I Murder hate

© Robert Burns

I MURDER hate by flood or field,
Tho’ glory’s name may screen us;
In wars at home I’ll spend my blood—
Life-giving wars of Venus.

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