Great poems
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The Impossibility Conquered : Or, Love Your Neighbour As Yourself.
© Hannah More
Who loves himself to great excess,
You'll grant must love his neighbour less;
When self engrosses all the heart
How can another have a part?
Then if self-love most men enthrall,
A neighbour's share is none at all.
113. A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esq.
© Robert Burns
The Poet, some guid angel help him,
Or else, I fear, some ill ane skelp him!
He may do weel for a hes done yet,
But onlyhes no just begun yet.
147. Address to a Haggis
© Robert Burns
Ye Powrs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer
Gie her a haggis!
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 09:
© Conrad Aiken
We sit together and talk, or smoke in silence.
You say (but use no words) 'this night is passing
As other nights when we are dead will pass . . .'
Perhaps I misconstrue you: you mean only,
'How deathly pale my face looks in that glass . . .'
463. SongThe Highland Balou
© Robert Burns
HEE balou, my sweet wee Donald,
Picture o the great Clanronald;
Brawlie kens our wanton Chief
Wha gat my young Highland thief.
God-Seeking
© William Watson
Yet whom thou soughtest I have found at last;
Neither where tempest dims the world below
Nor where the westering daylight reels aghast
In conflagrations of red overthrow:
But where this virgin brooklet silvers past,
And yellowing either bank the king-cups blow.
18. The First Six Verses of the Ninetieth Psalm versified
© Robert Burns
O THOU, the first, the greatest friend
Of all the human race!
Whose strong right hand has ever been
Their stay and dwelling place!
The Ballad of the White Horse
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night-
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?
11. SongHeres to thy health, my bonie lass
© Robert Burns
HERES to thy health, my bonie lass,
Gude nicht and joy be wi thee;
Ill come nae mair to thy bower-door,
To tell thee that I loe thee.
An Impromptu - II
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
AT THE WALCKER DINNER UPON THE
COMPLETION OF THE GREAT ORGAN
296. The Five Carlins: An Election Ballad
© Robert Burns
THERE was five Carlins in the South,
They fell upon a scheme,
To send a lad to London town,
To bring them tidings hame.
It's A Queer Time
© Robert Graves
It's hard to know if you're alive or dead
When steel and fire go roaring through your head.
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!
116. On a Scotch Bard, gone to the West Indies
© Robert Burns
Farewell, my rhyme-composing billie!
Your native soil was right ill-willie;
But may ye flourish like a lily,
Now bonilie!
Ill toast you in my hindmost gillie,
Tho owre the sea!
84. Address to the Deil
© Robert Burns
But fare-you-weel, auld Nickie-ben!
O wad ye tak a thought an men!
Ye aiblins might-I dinna ken
Stil hae a stake
Im wae to think up yon den,
Evn for your sake!
The Battle Of Salamis
© Aeschylus
The night was passing, and the Grecian host
By no means sought to issue forth unseen.
27. The Death and Dying Words of Poor Mailie
© Robert Burns
O thou, whase lamentable face
Appears to mourn my woefu case!
My dying words attentive hear,
An bear them to my Master dear.
275. SongThe Laddies dear sel
© Robert Burns
THERES a youth in this city, it were a great pity
That he from our lassies should wander awa;
For hes bonie and braw, weel-favord witha,
An his hair has a natural buckle an a.
Shyama -- English Translation
© Rabindranath Tagore
Yet after all these I cannot forget the pain
I couldnt know her more!
One can hardly be nearest to what is beautiful
It ever remains far
When nearer it urges one ever
To know it ever more.
408. Commemoration of Rodneys Victory
© Robert Burns
INSTEAD of a Song, boys, Ill give you a Toast;
Heres to the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost!
That we lost, did I say?nay, by Heavn, that we found;
For their fame it will last while the world goes round.
