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amang appear arms auld banks bard bonnie bosom Burns called charms comes dear death e'er face fair fate father fear fire flowers frae gi'e give grace guid ha'e hand head hear heart Heaven Highland hills honest honour hope hour I'll John kind king lass lassie leave light lines live look Lord mair mark maun meet mind mony morn mourn Muse ne'er never night o'er owre pleasure Poet poor pride rest roar Robert round sang scenes Scotland sing song soul sweet tear tell thee There's thou thought Till true Tune turn verses wander weary weel whistle wife wild wind winter wish worth young
Seite 421 - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a" the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi
Seite 23 - 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 311 - Of a' the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the West, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best : There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between ; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair : I hear her in the tunefu...
Seite 401 - THAT AND A' THAT" Is there, for honest Poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that! The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a
Seite 66 - Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May : The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join ; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine ! Thou Power Supreme whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here, firm I rest ; they must be best.
Seite 320 - Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast...
Seite 343 - It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor: How...
Seite 53 - Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem ; To spare thee now is past my power, Thou bonnie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie lark, companion meet, Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet, Wi' spreckled breast ! When upward-springing, blithe, to greet The purpling east.
Seite 47 - Think on the dungeon's grim confine, Where guilt and poor misfortune pine ! Guilt, erring man, relenting view ! But shall thy legal rage pursue The wretch, already crushed low, By cruel fortune's undeserved blow? Affliction's sons are brothers in distress ; A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss ! " I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer Shook off the pouthery snaw, And hail'd the morning with a cheer, A cottage-rousing craw. But deep this truth impress'd my mind — Thro' all His works abroad,...