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Best Famous Robert Burns Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Robert Burns poems. This is a select list of the best famous Robert Burns poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Robert Burns poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of robert burns poems.

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by Robert Burns |

A Red Red Rose

O, my Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my Luve's like a melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair as thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
I will love thess till, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run:

And fare thee well, my only luve!
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.


by Robert Burns |

To a Mouse

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
          Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
          Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
          Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
          An' fellow mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
          'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
          An' never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
          O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's win's ensuin,
          Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
          Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
          Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,
          But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
          An' cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
          Gang aft a-gley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
          For promised joy!

Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e
          On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho I canna see,
          I guess an' fear!


by Robert Burns |

540. Inscription to Chloris

 ’TIS Friendship’s pledge, my young, fair Friend,
 Nor thou the gift refuse,
Nor with unwilling ear attend
 The moralising Muse.


Since thou, in all thy youth and charms,
 Must bid the world adieu,
(A world ’gainst Peace in constant arms)
 To join the Friendly Few.


Since, thy gay morn of life o’ercast,
 Chill came the tempest’s lour;
(And ne’er Misfortune’s eastern blast
 Did nip a fairer flower.)


Since life’s gay scenes must charm no more,
 Still much is left behind,
Still nobler wealth hast thou in store—
 The comforts of the mind!


Thine is the self-approving glow,
 Of conscious Honour’s part;
And (dearest gift of Heaven below)
 Thine Friendship’s truest heart.


The joys refin’d of Sense and Taste,
 With every Muse to rove:
And doubly were the Poet blest,
 These joys could he improve.R.B.


by Robert Burns |

341. Song—My Bonie Bell

 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 Spring leads sunny Summer,
 The yellow Autumn presses near;
Then in his turn comes gloomy Winter,
 Till smiling Spring again appear:
Thus seasons dancing, life advancing,
 Old Time and Nature their changes tell;
But never ranging, still unchanging,
 I adore my bonie Bell.


by Robert Burns |

Ye Banks And Braes OBonnie Doon

 Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird
That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o' the happy days
When my fause Luve was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o' my fate.

Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon
To see the woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o' its love;
And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
Frae aff its thorny tree;
And my fause luver staw the rose,
But left the thorn wi' me.


by Robert Burns |

175. Epigram to Miss Jean Scott

 O HAD each Scot of ancient times
 Been, Jeanie Scott, as thou art;
The bravest heart on English ground
 Had yielded like a coward.


by Robert Burns |

179. To Miss Ferrier enclosing Elegy on Sir J. H. Blair

 NAE heathen name shall I prefix,
 Frae Pindus or Parnassus;
Auld Reekie dings them a’ to sticks,
 For rhyme-inspiring lasses.


Jove’s tunefu’ dochters three times three
 Made Homer deep their debtor;
But, gien the body half an e’e,
 Nine Ferriers wad done better!


Last day my mind was in a bog,
 Down George’s Street I stoited;
A creeping cauld prosaic fog
 My very sense doited.


Do what I dought to set her free,
 My saul lay in the mire;
Ye turned a neuk—I saw your e’e—
 She took the wing like fire!


The mournfu’ sang I here enclose,
 In gratitude I send you,
And pray, in rhyme as weel as prose,
 A’ gude things may attend you!


by Robert Burns |

253. Rhyming Reply to a Note from Captain Riddell

 DEAR SIR, at ony time or tide,
I’d rather sit wi’ you than ride,
 Though ’twere wi’ royal Geordie:
And trowth, your kindness, soon and late,
Aft gars me to mysel’ look blate—
 The Lord in Heav’n reward ye!R. BURNS.ELLISLAND.


by Robert Burns |

Coming Through The Rye

 Coming thro' the rye, poor body,
Coming thro' the rye,
She draiglet a' her petticoatie
Coming thro' the rye.

O, Jenny's a' wat, poor body;
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie
Coming thro' the rye.

Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body— 
Need a body cry?

Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro' the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body— 
Need the warld ken?


by Robert Burns |

135. Epigram on Rough Roads

 I’M now arrived—thanks to the gods!—
 Thro’ pathways rough and muddy,
A certain sign that makin roads
 Is no this people’s study:
Altho’ Im not wi’ Scripture cram’d,
 I’m sure the Bible says
That heedless sinners shall be damn’d,
 Unless they mend their ways.