Life poems
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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.
Contemplation
© Francis Thompson
This morning saw I, fled the shower,
The earth reclining in a lull of power:
The heavens, pursuing not their path,
Lay stretched out naked after bath,
Or so it seemed; field, water, tree, were still,
Nor was there any purpose on the calm-browed hill.
295. Epistle to Dr. Blacklock
© Robert Burns
My compliments to sister Beckie,
And eke the same to honest Lucky;
I wat she is a daintie chuckie,
As eer tread clay;
And gratefully, my gude auld cockie,
Im yours for aye.ROBERT BURNS.
South Carolina To The States Of The North
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I LIFT these hands with iron fetters banded:
Beneath the scornful sunlight and cold stars
I rear my once imperial forehead branded
By alien shame's immedicable scars;
300. Scots Prologue for Mr. Sutherland
© Robert Burns
WHAT needs this din about the town o Lonon,
How this new play an that new sang is comin?
Why is outlandish stuff sae meikle courted?
Does nonsense mend, like brandy, when imported?
9. The Ploughmans Life
© Robert Burns
AS I was a-wandring ae morning in spring,
I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing;
And as he was singin, thir words he did say,
Theres nae life like the ploughmans in the month o sweet May.
241. Written in Friars Carse Hermitage (Second Version)
© Robert Burns
THOU whom chance may hither lead,
Be thou clad in russet weed,
Be thou deckt in silken stole,
Grave these counsels on thy soul.
4. SongIn the Character of a Ruined Farmer
© Robert Burns
THE SUN he is sunk in the west,
All creatures retir?d to rest,
While here I sit, all sore beset,
With sorrow, grief, and woe:
And its O, fickle Fortune, O!
Two Christmas Eves
© Edith Nesbit
Don't go to sleep; you mustn't sleep
Here on the frozen floor! Yes, creep
Closer to me. Oh, if I knew
What is this something left to do!
254. Caledonia: A Ballad
© Robert Burns
THERE was once a day, but old Time wasythen young,
That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line,
From some of your northern deities sprung,
(Who knows not that brave Caledonias divine?)
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?
Her Prayer
© Madison Julius Cawein
She kneels with haggard eyes and hair
Unto the Christ upon the Cross:
Her gown is torn; her feet are bare.
Faith
© Nikola Vaptsarov
Pray, how will you smash it?
With bullets?
No! That is useless!
Stop! It is not worth it!
A Little Grey Curl
© Louisa May Alcott
A little grey curl from my father's head
I find unburned on the hearth,
Howard At Atlanta
© John Greenleaf Whittier
RIGHT in the track where Sherman
Ploughed his red furrow,
Out of the narrow cabin,
Up from the cellar's burrow,
321. SongCraigieburn Wood
© Robert Burns
SWEET closes the evning on Craigieburn Wood,
And blythely awaukens the morrow;
But the pride o the spring in the Craigieburn Wood
Can yield to me nothing but sorrow.
261. The Wounded Hare
© Robert Burns
INHUMAN man! curse on thy barbrous art,
And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye;
May never pity soothe thee with a sigh,
Nor ever pleasure glad thy cruel heart!
102. To a Mountain Daisy
© Robert Burns
Evn thou who mournst the Daisys fate,
That fate is thineno distant date;
Stern Ruins plough-share drives elate,
Full on thy bloom,
Till crushd beneath the furrows weight,
Shall be thy doom!
281. Sonnet to R. Graham, Esq., on Receiving a Favour
© Robert Burns
I CALL no Goddess to inspire my strains,
A fabled Muse may suit a bard that feigns:
Friend of my life! my ardent spirit burns,
And all the tribute of my heart returns,
155. Epistle to Mrs. Scott of Wauchope House
© Robert Burns
GUDEWIFE,I MIND it weel in early date,
When I was bardless, young, and blate,
An first could thresh the barn,
Or haud a yokin at the pleugh;
