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471. Epigram on Jessy Staig’s recovery

© Robert Burns

MAXWELL, if merit here you crave,
That merit I deny;
You save fair Jessie from the grave!—
An Angel could not die!

Dunn, Gilbert and Ben Hall

© Anonymous

Come! all ye lads of loyalty,

 and listen to my tale;

272. Song—My Love she’s but a Lassie yet

© Robert Burns

MY love, she’s but a lassie yet,
My love, she’s but a lassie yet;
We’ll let her stand a year or twa,
She’ll no be half sae saucy yet;

467. Inscription to Miss Graham of Fintry

© Robert Burns

HERE, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives,
In sacred strains and tuneful numbers joined,
Accept the gift; though humble he who gives,
Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind.

Sophia’s Fool’s-Cap

© Ann Taylor

SOPHIA was a little child,

Obliging, good, and very mild,

430. Song—Dainty Davie

© Robert Burns

NOW rosy May comes in wi’ flowers,
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers;
And now comes in the happy hours,
To wander wi’ my Davie.

415. Song—The last time I cam o’er the Moor

© Robert Burns

THE LAST time I came o’er the moor,
And left Maria’s dwelling,
What throes, what tortures passing cure,
Were in my bosom swelling:

To The Poet, John Dyer

© William Wordsworth

BARD of the Fleece, whose skilful genius made
That work a living landscape fair and bright;
Nor hallowed less with musical delight
Than those soft scenes through which thy childhood strayed,

375. Song—The Deuks dang o’er my Daddie

© Robert Burns

THE BAIRNS gat out wi’ an unco shout,
The deuks dang o’er my daddie, O!
The fien-ma-care, quo’ the feirrie auld wife,
He was but a paidlin’ body, O!

The Song of the Strange Ascetic

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

If I had been a Heathen,

I'd have praised the purple vine,

172. Note to Mr. Renton of Lamerton

© Robert Burns

YOUR billet, Sir, I grant receipt;
Wi’ you I’ll canter ony gate,
Tho’ ’twere a trip to yon blue warl’,
Whare birkies march on burning marl:
Then, Sir, God willing, I’ll attend ye,
And to his goodness I commend ye.R. BURNS

Idyll XII. The Comrades

© Theocritus

Art come, dear youth? two days and nights away!
(Who burn with love, grow aged in a day.)
As much as apples sweet the damson crude
Excel; the blooming spring the winter rude;

214. Song—How Long and Dreary is the Night

© Robert Burns

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
As ye were wae and weary!
It was na sae ye glinted by,
When I was wi’ my dearie!
It was na sae ye glinted by,
When I was wi’ my dearie!

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.

Memorial Day

© Edgar Albert Guest

There are new graves for our roses

In God's acres where we stand,

168. Boat Song—Hey, Ca’ Thro’

© Robert Burns

UP wi’ the carls o’ Dysart,
And the lads o’ Buckhaven,
And the kimmers o’ Largo,
And the lasses o’ Leven.

340. Song—Thou Fair Eliza

© Robert Burns

TURN again, thou fair Eliza!
Ae kind blink before we part;
Rue on thy despairing lover,
Can’st thou break his faithfu’ heart?

Incommunicado

© Sylvia Plath

The groundhog on the mountain did not run

But fatly scuttled into the splayed fern

537. Song—O bonie was yon rosy Brier

© Robert Burns

O BONIE was yon rosy brier,
That blooms sae far frae haunt o’ man;
And bonie she, and ah, how dear!
It shaded frae the e’enin sun.

'On nerveless, tuneless lines how sadly'

© Charles Harpur

ON nerveless, tuneless lines how sadly

Ringing rhymes may wasted be,

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