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247. Ode, Sacred to the Memory of Mrs. Oswald of Auchencruive

© Robert Burns

EPODE And are they of no more avail,
Ten thousand glittering pounds a-year?
In other worlds can Mammon fail,
Omnipotent as he is here!

I can't abear

© Walter de la Mare

I can't abear a butcher,

I can't abide his meat,

232. Song—The Day Returns

© Robert Burns

THE DAY returns, my bosom burns,
The blissful day we twa did meet:
Tho’ winter wild in tempest toil’d,
Ne’er summer-sun was half sae sweet.

L'ile Sainte Croix

© Arthur Wentworth Hamilton Eaton

WITH tangled brushwood overgrown,
  And here and there a lofty pine,
  Around whose form strange creepers twine,
And crags that mock the wild sea's moan,

233. Song—O were I on Parnassus Hill

© Robert Burns

O, WERE I on Parnassus hill,
Or had o’ Helicon my fill,
That I might catch poetic skill,
To sing how dear I love thee!

He and She

© William Schwenck Gilbert

[HE.]  I know a youth who loves a little maid -

(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)

434. Song—Thou hast left me ever, jamie

© Robert Burns

THOU hast left me ever, Jamie,
Thou hast left me ever;
Thou has left me ever, Jamie,
Thou hast left me ever:

90. Epistle to James Smith

© Robert Burns

Whilst I—but I shall haud me there,
Wi’ you I’ll scarce gang ony where—
Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair,
But quat my sang,
Content wi’ you to mak a pair.
Whare’er I gang.

Backward

© William Carlos Williams

A three-day-long rain from the east--

an terminable talking, talking

524. Song—The lass that made the bed to me

© Robert Burns

WHEN Januar’ wind was blawing cauld,
As to the north I took my way,
The mirksome night did me enfauld,
I knew na where to lodge till day:

276. Song—Whistle o’er the lave o’t

© Robert Burns

FIRST when Maggie was my care,
Heav’n, I thought, was in her air,
Now we’re married-speir nae mair,
But whistle o’er the lave o’t!

The Sword of Suprise

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Sunder me from my bones, O sword of God
Till they stand stark and strange as do the trees;
That I whose heart goes up with the soaring woods
May marvel as much at these.

513. Song—Steer her up and haud her gaun

© Robert Burns

O STEER her up, an’ haud her gaun,
Her mither’s at the mill, jo;
An’ gin she winna tak a man,
E’en let her tak her will, jo.

I can't tell you—but you feel it

© Emily Dickinson

I can't tell you—but you feel it—
Nor can you tell me—
Saints, with ravished slate and pencil
Solve our April Day!

493. Song—Contented wi’ little, and cantie wi’ mair

© Robert Burns

CONTENTED wi’ little, and cantie wi’ mair,
Whene’er I forgather wi’ Sorrow and Care,
I gie them a skelp as they’re creeping alang,
Wi’ a cog o’ gude swats and an auld Scottish sang.
Chorus.—Contented wi’ little, &c.

Souvent Le Malheureux

© André Marie de Chénier

Souvent le malheureux sourit parmi ses pleurs,

  Et voit quelque plaisir naître au sein des douleurs.

217. Song—The Lad they ca’ Jumpin John

© Robert Burns

HER daddie forbad, her minnie forbad
Forbidden she wadna be:
She wadna trow’t the browst she brew’d,
Wad taste sae bitterlie.

176. On the Death of John M’Leod, Esq.

© Robert Burns

SAD thy tale, thou idle page,
And rueful thy alarms:
Death tears the brother of her love
From Isabella’s arms.

542. Song—Fragment—the Wren’s Nest

© Robert Burns

THE ROBIN to the Wren’s nest
Cam keekin’ in, cam keekin’ in;
O weel’s me on your auld pow,
Wad ye be in, wad ye be in?

Garden Street

© Roderic Quinn

LONG and drowsy and white and wide,
Villas and arbours on either side,
Pleasant under the cloudless skies,
Garden Street in the sunlight lies.

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