All Poems
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Old-Fashioned Letters
© Edgar Albert Guest
Old-fashioned letters! How good they were!
And nobody writes them now;
533. SongForlorn, my love, no comfort here
© Robert Burns
FORLORN, my Love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
At which I most repine, Love.
Disco De Newton
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Omnicromía de la tarde amena…
El alma, a la sordina,
y la luz, peregrina,
y la ventura, plena,
y la Vida, una hada
que por amar esta desencajada.
192. SongThe Bonie Lass of Albany
© Robert Burns
MY 1 heart is wae, and unco wae,
To think upon the raging sea,
That roars between her gardens green
An the bonie Lass of Albany.
A Virgile
© Victor Marie Hugo
Pour toi je l'ai cherchée, un matin, fier, joyeux,
Avec l'amour au coeur et l'aube dans les yeux ;
Pour toi je l'ai cherchée, accompagné de celle
Qui sait tous les secrets que mon âme recèle,
Et qui, seule avec moi sous les bois chevelus,
Serait ma Lycoris si j'étais ton Gallus.
110. Epistle to a Young Friend
© Robert Burns
May, 1786.I LANG hae thought, my youthfu friend,
A something to have sent you,
Tho it should serve nae ither end
Than just a kind memento:
Finality
© Charles Harpur
A HEAVY and desolate sense of life
Is all the Past makes mineand still
A cold contempt of Fortunes strife,
Despite the dread
Of want of bread,
Numbs, clogs like ice, my weary will.
138. Address to the Toothache
© Robert Burns
O thou grim, mischief-making chiel,
That gars the notes o discord squeel,
Till daft mankind aft dance a reel
In gore, a shoe-thick,
Gie a the faes o SCOTLANDS weal
A townmonds toothache!
Years Have Passed
© Sugawara Takesue no Musume
Even in our wandering journey,
The lonely moon accompanies us lighting us from the sky,
The waning moon I used to gaze at in the Royal City.
52. Epitaph on John Rankine
© Robert Burns
AE day, as Death, that gruesome carl,
Was driving to the tither warl
A mixtie-maxtie motley squad,
And mony a guilt-bespotted lad
293. The Whistle: A Ballad
© Robert Burns
I SING of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth,
I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North.
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish King,
And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring.
A Remonstrance to the Poet Campbell, on Proposing to Take up His Permanent Residence in London
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Dear Poet of Hope! who hast charmed us so long
With thy strains of home-music, sweet, solemn, and strong;
481. Epigram on Andrew Turner
© Robert Burns
IN seenteen hundern forty-nine,
The deil gat stuff to mak a swine,
An coost it in a corner;
But wilily he changd his plan,
An shapd it something like a man,
An cad it Andrew Turner.
Our Martrys
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I AM sitting alone and weary,
By the hearth of my darkened room,
And the low wind's miserere,
Makes sadder the midnight gloom.
54. Man was made to Mourn: A Dirge
© Robert Burns
WHEN chill Novembers surly blast
Made fields and forests bare,
One evning, as I wanderd forth
Along the banks of Ayr,
548. The Dean of Faculty: A new Ballad
© Robert Burns
DIRE was the hate at old Harlaw,
That Scot to Scot did carry;
And dire the discord Langside saw
For beauteous, hapless Mary:
Orgueil d'aimer
© François Coppée
Hélas! la chimère s'envole
Et l'espoir ne m'est plus permis;
Mais je défends qu'on me console.
39. Ballad on the American War
© Robert Burns
WHEN Guilford good our pilot stood
An did our hellim thraw, man,
Ae night, at tea, began a plea,
Within America, man:
