Editors

April 1, 1785 While briers an’ woodbines budding green,An’ paitricks scraichin loud at e’en,An’ morning poussie whiddin seen,Inspire my muse,This freedom, in an unknown frien’,I pray excuse. On Fasten—e’en we had a rockin,To ca’ the crack and weave our stockin;And there was muckle fun and jokin,Ye need na doubt;At length we had a hearty yokinAt sang about. There was ae … [Read more...] about Epistle to J. Lapraik, an Old Scottish Bard, By: Robert Burns

January While winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw,An’ bar the doors wi’ driving snaw,An’ hing us owre the ingle,I set me down to pass the time,An’ spin a verse or twa o’ rhyme,In hamely, westlin jingle.While frosty winds blaw in the drift,Ben to the chimla lug,I grudge a wee the great-folk’s gift,That live sae bien an’ snug:I tent less, and want lessTheir roomy fire-side;But … [Read more...] about Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet, By: Robert Burns

Duan First The sun had clos’d the winter day,The curless quat their roarin play,And hunger’d maukin taen her way,To kail-yards green,While faithless snaws ilk step betrayWhare she has been. The thresher’s weary flingin-tree,The lee-lang day had tired me;And when the day had clos’d his e’e,Far i’ the west,Ben i’ the spence, right pensivelie,I gaed to rest. There, lanely … [Read more...] about The Vision, By: Robert Burns

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are,That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm!How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,Your loop’d and window’d raggedness, defend youFrom seasons such as these?—Shakespeare. When biting Boreas, fell and dour,Sharp shivers thro’ the leafless bow’r;When Phoebus gies a short-liv’d glow’r,Far south the lift,Dim-dark’ning thro’ the … [Read more...] about A Winter Night, By: Robert Burns

On giving her the accustomed ripp of corn to hansel in the New Year. A Guid New-year I wish thee, Maggie!Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld baggie:Tho’ thou’s howe-backit now, an’ knaggie,I’ve seen the dayThou could hae gaen like ony staggie,Out-owre the lay. Tho’ now thou’s dowie, stiff, an’ crazy,An’ thy auld hide as white’s a daisie,I’ve seen thee dappl’t, sleek an’ … [Read more...] about The Auld Farmer’s New-Year Morning Salutation to His Auld Mare, Maggie, By: Robert Burns