Famous Ance Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Ance poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous ance poems. These examples illustrate what a famous ance poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

See also:

83. The Cotter's Saturday Night

by Robert Burns
 MY lov’d, my honour’d, much respected friend!
 No mercenary bard his homage pays;
With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,
 My dearest meed, a friend’s esteem and praise:
 To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,
The lowly train in life’s sequester’d scene,
 The native feelings strong, the guileless ways,
What Aiken in a cottage would have been;
Ah! tho’ his worth...Read more of this...

396. Song—Wandering Willie

by Robert Burns
 HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
 Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
 And tell me thou bring’st me my Willie the same.
Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting;
 It was na the blast brought the tear in my e’e:
Now welcome the Simmer, and welcome my Willie,
 The Simmer to...Read more of this...

68. The Holy Fair

by Robert Burns
 UPON 1 a simmer Sunday morn
 When Nature’s face is fair,
I walked forth to view the corn,
 An’ snuff the caller air.
The rising sun owre Galston muirs
 Wi’ glorious light was glintin;
The hares were hirplin down the furrs,
 The lav’rocks they were chantin
 Fu’ sweet that day.


As lightsomely I glowr’d abroad,
 To see a scene sae gay,
Three hizzies, early...Read more of this...

326. Song—The Posie

by Robert Burns
 O LUVE will venture in where it daur na weel be seen,
O luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been;
But I will doun yon river rove, amang the wood sae green,
 And a’ to pu’ a Posie to my ain dear May.


The primrose I will pu’, the firstling o’ the year,
And I will pu’ the pink, the emblem...Read more of this...

302. Elegy on Willie Nicol's Mare

by Robert Burns
 PEG NICHOLSON was a good bay mare,
 As ever trod on airn;
But now she’s floating down the Nith,
 And past the mouth o’ Cairn.


Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
 An’ rode thro’ thick and thin;
But now she’s floating down the Nith,
 And wanting even the skin.


Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare,
 And ance she bore a priest;
But...Read more of this...

58. Epitaph on Holy Willie

by Robert Burns
 HERE Holy Willie’s sair worn clay
 Taks up its last abode;
His saul has ta’en some other way,
 I fear, the left-hand road.


Stop! there he is, as sure’s a gun,
 Poor, silly body, see him;
Nae wonder he’s as black’s the grun,
 Observe wha’s standing wi’ him.


Your brunstane devilship, I see,
 Has got him there before ye;
But haud your nine-tail cat...Read more of this...

515. Song—O let me in this ae night

by Robert Burns
 O LASSIE, are ye sleepin yet,
Or are ye waukin, I wad wit?
For Love has bound me hand an’ fit,
 And I would fain be in, jo.


Chorus.—O let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
O let me in this ae night,
I’ll no come back again, jo!


O hear’st thou not the wind an’ weet?
Nae star blinks thro’ the driving...Read more of this...

87. The Twa Dogs

by Robert Burns
 ’TWAS 1 in that place o’ Scotland’s isle,
That bears the name o’ auld King Coil,
Upon a bonie day in June,
When wearin’ thro’ the afternoon,
Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame,
Forgather’d ance upon a time.
 The first I’ll name, they ca’d him Caesar,
Was keepit for His Honor’s pleasure:
His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs,
Shew’d he was nane o’...Read more of this...

97. To John Kennedy Dumfries House

by Robert Burns
 NOW, Kennedy, if foot or horse
E’er bring you in by Mauchlin corse,
(Lord, man, there’s lasses there wad force
 A hermit’s fancy;
An’ down the gate in faith they’re worse,
 An’ mair unchancy).


But as I’m sayin, please step to Dow’s,
An’ taste sic gear as Johnie brews,
Till some bit callan bring me news
 That ye are there;
An’ if we dinna hae a...Read more of this...

40. Reply to an Announcement by J. Rankine

by Robert Burns
 I AM a keeper of the law
In some sma’ points, altho’ not a’;
Some people tell me gin I fa’,
 Ae way or ither,
The breaking of ae point, tho’ sma’,
 Breaks a’ thegither.


I hae been in for’t ance or twice,
And winna say o’er far for thrice;
Yet never met wi’ that surprise
 That broke my rest;
But now a rumour’s like to...Read more of this...

86. The Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning Salutation to his Auld Mare Maggie

by Robert Burns
 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 day
Thou 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’ glaizie,
 A bonie gray:
He should been tight that daur’t...Read more of this...

208. Song—To the Weaver's gin ye go

by Robert Burns
 MY heart was ance as blithe and free
 As simmer days were lang;
But a bonie, westlin weaver lad
 Has gart me change my sang.


Chorus.—To the weaver’s gin ye go, fair maids,
 To the weaver’s gin ye go;
I rede you right, gang ne’er at night,
 To the weaver’s gin ye go.


My mither sent me to the town,
 To warp a...Read more of this...

96. The Inventory

by Robert Burns
 SIR, as your mandate did request,
I send you here a faithfu’ list,
O’ gudes an’ gear, an’ a’ my graith,
To which I’m clear to gi’e my aith.


 Imprimis, then, for carriage cattle,
I hae four brutes o’ gallant mettle,
As ever drew afore a pettle.
My hand-afore ’s a guid auld has-been,
An’ wight an’ wilfu’ a’ his days been:
My hand-ahin ’s a weel...Read more of this...

56. Epistle to Davie A Brother Poet

by Robert Burns
 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:
...Read more of this...

90. Epistle to James Smith

by Robert Burns
 DEAR SMITH, the slee’st, pawkie thief,
That e’er attempted stealth or rief!
Ye surely hae some warlock-brief
 Owre human hearts;
For ne’er a bosom yet was prief
 Against your arts.


For me, I swear by sun an’ moon,
An’ ev’ry star that blinks aboon,
Ye’ve cost me twenty pair o’ shoon,
 Just gaun to see you;
An’ ev’ry ither pair that’s done,
 Mair taen I’m wi’...Read more of this...

362. Song—Thou Gloomy December

by Robert Burns
 ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
 Ance mair I 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;
But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever!
 Anguish unmingled, and agony pure!


Wild as...Read more of this...

88. The Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer

by Robert Burns
 YE Irish lords, ye knights an’ squires,
Wha represent our brughs an’ shires,
An’ doucely manage our affairs
 In parliament,
To you a simple poet’s pray’rs
 Are humbly sent.


Alas! my roupit Muse is hearse!
Your Honours’ hearts wi’ grief ’twad pierce,
To see her sittin on her ****
 Low i’ the dust,
And scriechinh out prosaic verse,
 An like to brust!


Tell them wha hae the...Read more of this...

310. Tam o' Shanter: A Tale

by Robert Burns
 WHEN chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neibors, neibors, meet;
As market days are wearing late,
And folk begin to tak the gate,
While we sit bousing at the nappy,
An’ getting fou and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering...Read more of this...

111. Address to Beelzebub

by Robert Burns
 LONG life, my Lord, an’ health be yours,
Unskaithed by hunger’d Highland boors;
Lord grant me nae duddie, desperate beggar,
Wi’ dirk, claymore, and rusty trigger,
May twin auld Scotland o’ a life
She likes—as butchers like a knife.


Faith you and Applecross were right
To keep the Highland hounds in sight:
I doubt na! they wad bid nae better,
Than let them ance out owre the water,
Then...Read more of this...

171. Burlesque Lament fo Wm. Creech's Absence

by Robert Burns
 AULD chuckie Reekie’s 1 sair distrest,
Down droops her ance weel burnish’d crest,
Nae joy her bonie buskit nest
 Can yield ava,
Her darling bird that she lo’es best—
 Willie’s awa!


O Willie was a witty wight,
And had o’ things an unco’ sleight,
Auld Reekie aye he keepit tight,
 And trig an’ braw:
But now they’ll busk her like a fright,—
 Willie’s awa!


The stiffest o’...Read more of this...

266. Song—The Banks of Nith

by Robert Burns
 THE THAMES flows proudly to the sea,
 Where royal cities stately stand;
But sweeter flows the Nith to me,
 Where Comyns ance had high command.
When shall I see that honour’d land,
 That winding stream I love so dear!
Must wayward Fortune’s adverse hand
 For ever, ever keep me here!


How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,
 Where bounding hawthorns gaily bloom;
And sweetly spread...Read more of this...

397. Song—Wandering Willie (Revised Version)

by Robert Burns
 HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
 Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,
 Tell me thou bring’st me my Willie the same.
Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,
 Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e’e,
Welcome nowhSimmer, and welcome, my Willie,
 The Simmer to Nature, my Willie to me!


Rest,...Read more of this...

444. Song—A Fiddler in the North

by Robert Burns
 AMANG the trees, where humming bees,
 At buds and flowers were hinging, O,
Auld Caledon drew out her drone,
 And to her pipe was singing, O:
’Twas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspeys, and Reels,
 She dirl’d them aff fu’ clearly, O:
When there cam’ a yell o’ foreign squeels,
 That dang her tapsalteerie, O.


Their capon craws an’ ***** “ha, ha’s,”
 They made our lugs...Read more of this...

547. Verses to Collector Mitchell

by Robert Burns
 FRIEND of the Poet, tried and leal,
Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal;
Alake, alake, the meikle deil
 Wi’ a’ his witches
Are at it skelpin jig and reel,
 In my poor pouches?


I modestly fu’ fain wad hint it,
That One-pound-one, I sairly want it;
If wi’ the hizzie down ye sent it,
 It would be kind;
And while my heart wi’ life-blood dunted,
...Read more of this...

142. Epistle to Major Logan

by Robert Burns
 HAIL, thairm-inspirin’, rattlin’ Willie!
Tho’ fortune’s road be rough an’ hilly
To every fiddling, rhyming billie,
 We never heed,
But take it like the unback’d filly,
 Proud o’ her speed.


When, idly goavin’, whiles we saunter,
Yirr! fancy barks, awa we canter,
Up hill, down brae, till some mischanter,
 Some black bog-hole,
Arrests us; then the scathe an’ banter
 We’re forced to thole.


Hale be your heart!...Read more of this...

Dont forget to view our wonderful member Ance poems.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace