The Tear-Drop

By |2018-11-12T18:28:33+00:00November 10th, 2018|1794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e; Lang, langhas Joy been a stranger to me: Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear, And the sweet voice o'Pity ne'er sounds in my ear. Love thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I luv'd; Love, thou hast sorrows, and sairhae I pruv'd; Butthis bruised heart [...]

The Winter Of Life

By |2018-11-12T18:28:33+00:00November 10th, 2018|1794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

But lately seen in gladsome green, The woods rejoic'd the day, Thro' gentle showers, the laughing flowers In double pride were gay: But now our joys are fled On winter blasts awa; Yet maiden May, in rich array, Again shall bring them a'. But my white pow, naekindly thowe Shall melt the snaws of Age; [...]

Wilt Thou Be My Dearie?

By |2018-11-12T18:28:38+00:00November 10th, 2018|1794, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Wilt thou be my Dearie? When Sorrow wring thy gentle heart, O wilt thou let me cheer thee! Bythe treasure of my soul, That's the love I bearthee: I swear and vow that only thou Shall ever be my Dearie! Only thou, I swear and vow, Shall ever be my Dearie! Lassie, say thou lo'es [...]

She Says She Loes Me Best Of A’

By |2018-11-12T18:28:38+00:00November 10th, 2018|1794, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Sae flaxen were her ringlets, Her eyebrows of a darker hue, Bewitchingly o'er-arching Twalaughing e'eno' lovely blue; Her smiling, sae wyling. Wad make a wretch forget his woe; What pleasure, what treasure, Unto these rosy lips to grow! Such was my Chloris' bonie face, When first that bonieface I saw; And aye my Chloris' dearest [...]

The Charming Month Of May

By |2018-11-12T18:28:38+00:00November 10th, 2018|1794, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

It was the charming month of May, When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay. One morning, by the break of day, The youthful, charming Chloe- From peaceful slumber she arose, Girton her mantle and her hose, And o'er the flow'ry mead she goes- The youthful, charming Chloe. Chorus.-Lovely was she by the dawn, Youthful [...]

The Flowery Banks Of Cree

By |2018-11-12T18:28:32+00:00November 10th, 2018|1794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Here is the glen, and here the bower All underneath the birchen shade; The village-bell has told the hour, O what can stay my lovely maid? 'Tis not Maria's whispering call; 'Tis butthe balmy breathing gale, Mixt with some warbler's dying fall, The dewy star of eve to hail. It is Maria's voice I hear; [...]