The poetical works of Robert Burns, ed. by A. Smith. Vignette ed

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Seite 59 - That wee bit heap o" leaves an' stibble Has cost thee mony a weary nibble ! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble An' cranreuch cauld ! But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane In proving foresight may be vain : The best laid schemes o mice an' men Gang aft a-gley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an
Seite 185 - Is there a man whose judgment clear, Can others teach the course to steer, Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, Wild as the wave ; Here pause — and, thro' the starting tear, Survey this grave. The poor Inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame, But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name...
Seite 247 - He looks and laughs at a' that. A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that; But an honest man's aboon his might,— Guid Faith, he maunna fa' that! For a
Seite 64 - O happy love! where love like this is found! O heartfelt raptures! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare: — If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
Seite 45 - Yes, let the rich deride, the proud disdain. These simple blessings of the lowly train ; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm than all the gloss of art.
Seite 97 - The doubling storm roars thro' the woods ; The lightnings flash from pole to pole ; Near and more near the thunders roll : When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze ; Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing ; And loud resounded mirth and dancing. — Inspiring bold John Barleycorn ! What dangers thou canst make us scorn ! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi...
Seite 96 - Tam had got planted unco right, Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely ; And at his elbow souter Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither ; They had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi...
Seite 63 - But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; Wi...
Seite 62 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; The shortening winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose ; The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And, weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. Hi. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th'...
Seite 54 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.

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