Future poems
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240. Verses on a Parting Kiss
© Robert Burns
HUMID seal of soft affections,
Tenderest pledge of future bliss,
Dearest tie of young connections,
Loves first snowdrop, virgin kiss!
61. Second Epistle to J. Lapraik
© Robert Burns
Then may Lapraik and Burns arise,
To reach their native, kindred skies,
And sing their pleasures, hopes an joys,
In some mild sphere;
Still closer knit in friendships ties,
Each passing year!
91. The Vision
© Robert Burns
And wear thou thisshe solemn said,
And bound the holly round my head:
The polishd leaves and berries red
Did rustling play;
And, like a passing thought, she fled
In light away. [To Mrs. Stewart of Stair Burns presented a manuscript copy of the Vision. That copy embraces about twenty stanzas at the end of Duan First, which he cancelled when he came to print the price in his Kilmarnock volume. Seven of these he restored in printing his second edition, as noted on p. 174. The following are the verses which he left unpublished.]
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.
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.
Jacqueline
© Samuel Rogers
'Twas Autumn; thro' Provence had ceased
The vintage, and the vintage-feast.
The sun had set behind the hill,
The moon was up, and all was still,
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.
The Complaint: or Night Thoughts (excerpt)
© Edward Young
By Nature's law, what may be, may be now;
There's no prerogative in human hours.
234. A Mothers Lament for her Sons Death
© Robert Burns
FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,
And piercd my darlings heart;
And with him all the joys are fled
Life can to me impart.
75. Halloween
© Robert Burns
UPON that night, when fairies light
On Cassilis Downans 2 dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;
25. My Father was a Farmer: A Ballad
© Robert Burns
MY father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O,
And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O;
He bade me act a manly part, though I had neer a farthing, O;
For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O.
130. Natures Law: A Poem
© Robert Burns
LET other heroes boast their scars,
The marks of sturt and strife:
And other poets sing of wars,
The plagues of human life:
To India
© Sarojini Naidu
O YOUNG through all thy immemorial years!
Rise, Mother, rise, regenerate from thy gloom,
And, like a bride high-mated with the spheres,
Beget new glories from thine ageless womb!
To A Critic
© Madison Julius Cawein
Song hath a catalogue of lovely things
Thy kind hath oft defiled,--whose spite misleads
Past and Future
© Sarojini Naidu
The new hath come and now the old retires:
And so the past becomes a mountain-cell,
Where lone, apart, old hermit-memories dwell
In consecrated calm, forgotten yet
Of the keen heart that hastens to forget
Old longings in fulfilling new desires.
Lexington
© John Greenleaf Whittier
No Berserk thirst of blood had they,
No battle-joy was theirs, who set
Against the alien bayonet
Their homespun breasts in that old day.
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The First =Fourth Dialogue.=
© Giordano Bruno
CIC. I do not believe that he makes a comparison, nor puts as the same
kind the divine and the human mode of comprehending, which are very
diverse, but as to the subject they are the same.
Regret
© Victor Marie Hugo
Yes, Happiness hath left me soon behind!
Alas! we all pursue its steps! and when
We've sunk to rest within its arms entwined,
Like the Phoenician virgin, wake, and find
Ourselves alone again.
A Little Scraping
© Robinson Jeffers
True, the time, to one who does not love farce,
And if misery must be prefers it nobler, shows apparent vices;
