Good poems
/ page 253 of 545 /70. Epistle to the Rev. John MMath
© Robert Burns
Pardon this freedom I have taen,
An if impertinent Ive been,
Impute it not, good Sir, in ane
Whase heart neer wrangd ye,
But to his utmost would befriend
Ought that belangd ye.
The Occasion of the Law Suit. chapter I
© John Arbuthnot
The first letters of congratulation from King William and the
States of Holland upon King Philip's accession to the crown of
Spain.
* The English.
** The Dutch.
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.
17. Paraphrase of the First Psalm
© Robert Burns
THE MAN, in life wherever placd,
Hath happiness in store,
Who walks not in the wickeds way,
Nor learns their guilty lore!
358. A Grace after Dinner
© Robert Burns
O THOU, in whom we live and move
Who made the sea and shore;
Thy goodness constantly we prove,
And grateful would adore;
24. SongNo Churchman am I
© Robert Burns
NO churchman am I for to rail and to write,
No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business contriving a snare,
For a big-bellyd bottles the whole of my care.
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.
45. My Girl shes Airy: A Fragment
© Robert Burns
MY girl shes airy, shes buxom and gay;
Her breath is as sweet as the blossoms in May;
A touch of her lips it ravishes quite:
Shes always good naturd, good humourd, and free;
She dances, she glances, she smiles upon me;
I never am happy when out of her sight.
Annan Water
© Andrew Lang
"Annan water's wading deep,
And my love Annie's wondrous bonny;
And I am laith she suld weet her feet,
Because I love her best of ony.
306. Election Ballad at close of Contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs, 1790
© Robert Burns
Now, for my friends and brethrens sakes,
And for my dear-lovd Land o Cakes,
I pray with holy fire:
Lord, send a rough-shod troop o Hell
Oer a wad Scotland buy or sell,
To grind them in the mire!
Seats
© William Barnes
When starbright maïdens be to zit
In silken frocks, that they do wear,
The room mid have, as 'tis but fit,
A han'some seat vor vo'k so feäir;
But we, in zun-dried vield an' wood,
Ha' seats as good's a goolden chair.
391. A Tippling BalladWhen Princes and Prelates, etc.
© Robert Burns
WHEN Princes and Prelates,
And hot-headed zealots,
A Europe had set in a low, a low,
The poor man lies down,
302. Elegy on Willie Nicols Mare
© Robert Burns
PEG NICHOLSON was a good bay mare,
As ever trod on airn;
But now shes floating down the Nith,
And past the mouth o Cairn.
19. A Prayer in the Prospect of Death
© Robert Burns
O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!
In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!
Lydia Dick
© Eugene Field
When I was a boy at college,
Filling up with classic knowledge,
Frequently I wondered why
Old Professor Demas Bently
Used to praise so eloquently
"Opera Horatii."
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.
Das Krist Kindel
© James Whitcomb Riley
I had fed the fire and stirred it, till the sparkles in delight
Snapped their saucy little fingers at the chill December night;
And in dressing-gown and slippers, I had tilted back "my
throne"--
The old split-bottomed rocker--and was musing all alone.
125. Lines to Mr. John Kennedy
© Robert Burns
FAREWELL, dear friend! may guid luck hit you,
And mang her favourites admit you:
If eer Detraction shore to smit you,
May nane believe him,
And ony deil that thinks to get you,
Good Lord, deceive him
The Art Of War. Book VI.
© Henry James Pye
If chiefs like these in combat vers'd have found
Their honors fade as fortune sudden frown'd,
If they have fall'n from fortune's giddy height,
What can ye hope yet novices in fight?
Scarce wean'd by fierce Bellona's fostering arms,
Young in the field, and new to War's alarms.