Respect poems
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524. SongThe 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:
83. The Cotters Saturday Night
© Robert Burns
MY lovd, my honourd, much respected friend!
No mercenary bard his homage pays;
With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,
My dearest meed, a friends esteem and praise:
519. Ballad on Mr. Herons ElectionNo. 2
© Robert Burns
FY, let us a to Kirkcudbright,
For there will be bickerin there;
For Murrays light horse are to muster,
And O how the heroes will swear!
258. Epistle to James Tennant of Glenconner
© Robert Burns
Now fare ye weel, an joy be wi you:
For my sake, this I beg it o you,
Assist poor Simson a ye can,
Yell fin; him just an honest man;
Sae I conclude, and quat my chanter,
Yours, saint or sinner,ROB THE RANTER.
142. Epistle to Major Logan
© Robert Burns
Nae mair at present can I measure,
An trowth my rhymin wares nae treasure;
But when in Ayr, some half-hours leisure,
Bet light, bet dark,
Sir Bard will do himself the pleasure
To call at Park.ROBERT BURNS.Mossgiel, 30th October, 1786.
162. The Bookworms
© Robert Burns
THROUGH and through th inspird leaves,
Ye maggots, make your windings;
But O respect his lordships taste,
And spare his golden bindings.
88. The Authors Earnest Cry and Prayer
© Robert Burns
Scotland, my auld, respected mither!
Tho whiles ye moistify your leather,
Till, whare ye sit on craps o heather,
Ye tine your dam;
Freedom an whisky gang thegither!
Take aff your dram!
41. Epistle to John Rankine
© Robert Burns
It pits me aye as mads a hare;
So I can rhyme nor write nae mair;
But pennyworths again is fair,
When times expedient:
Meanwhile I am, respected Sir,
Your most obedient.
451. Epitaph on the same
© Robert Burns
HERE lies, now a prey to insulting neglect,
What once was a butterfly, gay in lifes beam:
Want only of wisdom denied her respect,
Want only of goodness denied her esteem.
50. Another on the said Occasion
© Robert Burns
ONE Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell,
When deprived of her husband she loved so well,
In respect for the love and affection he showd her,
She reducd him to dust and she drank up the powder.
169. Address to Wm. Tytler, Esq., of Woodhouselee
© Robert Burns
REVERED defender of beauteous Stuart,
Of Stuart, a name once respected;
A name, which to love was the mark of a true heart,
But now tis despisd and neglected.
105. Despondency: An Ode
© Robert Burns
OPPRESSD with grief, oppressd with care,
A burden more than I can bear,
I set me down and sigh;
O life! thou art a galling load,
280. The Kirk of Scotlands Alarm: A Ballad
© Robert Burns
ORTHODOX! orthodox, who believe in John Knox,
Let me sound an alarm to your conscience:
A heretic blast has been blown in the West,
That what is no sense must be nonsense,
Orthodox! That what is no sense must be nonsense.
The Progress of Taste, or the Fate of Delicacy
© William Shenstone
A POEM ON THE TEMPER AND STUDIES OF THE AUTHOR; AND HOW GREAT A MISFORTUNE IT IS FOR A MAN OF SMALL ESTATE TO HAVE MUCH TASTE.
Part first.
Runnamede, A Tragedy. Acts I.-II.
© John Logan
Yet lost to fame is virtue's orient reign;
The patriot lived, the hero died in vain,
Dark night descended o'er the human day,
And wiped the glory of the world away:
Whirled round the gulf, the acts of time were tost,
Then in the vast abyss for ever lost.
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 sailors amour.R. B. This was Prince William Henry, third son of George III, afterward King William IV. [back]
Life Is A Dream - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
CLOTALDO. Reasons fail me not to show
That the experiment may not answer;
But there is no remedy now,
For a sign from the apartment
Tells me that he hath awoken
And even hitherward advances.
Sonnet XXXVI
© William Shakespeare
Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain
Without thy help by me be borne alone.
Sonnet XXVI
© William Shakespeare
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,
To thee I send this written embassage,
To witness duty, not to show my wit:
