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Thou Fair Eliza

2018-11-12T18:27:53+00:00Categories: 1791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Turn again, thou fair Eliza! Ae kind blinkbefore we part; Rue on thy despairing lover, Can'st thou break his faithfu' heart? Turn again, thou fair Eliza! If to love thy heart denies, Oh, in pity hide the sentence Under friendship's kind disguise! Thee, sweet maid, haeI offended? My offence is loving thee; Can'st thou wreck

Thou Gloomy December

2018-11-12T18:27:53+00:00Categories: 1791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December! AncemairI hail thee wi' sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me remember- Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair! Fond lovers' parting is sweet, painful pleasure, Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; Butthe dire feeling, O farewell for ever! Is anguish

Such A Parcel Of Rogues In A Nation

2018-11-12T18:27:51+00:00Categories: 1791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Fareweel to a'our Scottish fame, Fareweel our ancient glory; Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name, Saefam'd in martial story. Now Sarkrins over Solway sands, An'Tweed rins to the ocean, To markwhere England's province stands- Such a parcel of rogues in a nation! What force or guile could not subdue, Thro' many warlike ages, Is wrought

Sweet Afton

2018-11-12T18:27:52+00:00Categories: 1791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yonthorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, I

The Banks O’ Doon

2018-11-12T18:27:52+00:00Categories: 1791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Sweet are the banks-the banks o' Doon, The spreading flowers are fair, And everything is blythe and glad, But I am fu'o' care. Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings upon the bough; Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luvewas true: Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That

My Bonie Bell

2018-11-12T18:27:46+00:00Categories: 1791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

The smiling Spring comes in rejoicing, And surly Winter grimly flies; Now crystal clear are the falling waters, And bonie blue are the sunny skies. Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the morning, The ev'ning gilds the ocean's swell; All creatures joy in the sun's returning, And I rejoice in my bonie Bell. The flowery

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