Robert Burns Short Poems | Poetry

Famous Short Robert Burns Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Robert Burns. A collection of the all-time best Robert Burns short poems

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...



Robert Burns | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Robert Burns

442. Remorseful Apology

 THE FRIEND whom, wild from Wisdom’s way,
 The fumes of wine infuriate send,
(Not moony madness more astray)
 Who but deplores that hapless friend?


Mine was th’ insensate frenzied part,
 Ah! why should I such scenes outlive?
Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!—
 ’Tis thine to pity and forgive.


by Robert Burns

124. Motto prefixed to the Author's first Publication

 THE SIMPLE Bard, unbroke by rules of art,
He pours the wild effusions of the heart;
And if inspir’d ’tis Nature’s pow’rs inspire;
Her’s all the melting thrill, and her’s the kindling fire.


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.


by Robert Burns

100. Inscribed on a Work of Hannah More's

 THOU flatt’ring mark of friendship kind,
Still may thy pages call to mind
 The dear, the beauteous donor;
Tho’ sweetly female ev’ry part,
Yet such a head, and more the heart
 Does both the sexes honour:
She show’d her taste refin’d and just,
 When she selected thee;
Yet deviating, own I must,
 For sae approving me:
 But kind still I’ll mind still
 The giver in the gift;
 I’ll bless her, an’ wiss her
 A Friend aboon the lift.


by Robert Burns

119. Epitaph for Robert Aiken Esq

 KNOW thou, O stranger to the fame
Of this much lov’d, much honoured name!
(For none that knew him need be told)
A warmer heart death ne’er made cold.


by Robert Burns

117. Song—Farewell to Eliza

 FROM thee, Eliza, I must go,
 And from my native shore;
The cruel fates between us throw
 A boundless ocean’s roar:
But boundless oceans, roaring wide,
 Between my love and me,
They never, never can divide
 My heart and soul from thee.
Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, The maid that I adore! A boding voice is in mine ear, We part to meet no more! But the latest throb that leaves my heart, While Death stands victor by,— That throb, Eliza, is thy part, And thine that latest sigh!


by Robert Burns

478. Epigram on a Suicide

 EARTH’D up, here lies an imp o’ hell,
 Planted by Satan’s dibble;
Poor silly wretch, he’s damned himsel’,
 To save the Lord the trouble.


by Robert Burns

121. Epitaph on 'Wee Johnnie'

 WHOE’ER thou art, O reader, know
 That Death has murder’d Johnie;
An’ here his body lies fu’ low;
 For saul he ne’er had ony.


by Robert Burns

126. Lines written on a Bank-note

 WAE worth thy power, thou cursed leaf!
Fell source o’ a’ my woe and grief!
For lack o’ thee I’ve lost my lass!
For lack o’ thee I scrimp my glass!
I see the children of affliction
Unaided, through thy curst restriction:
I’ve seen the oppressor’s cruel smile
Amid his hapless victim’s spoil;
And for thy potence vainly wished,
To crush the villain in the dust:
For lack o’ thee, I leave this much-lov’d shore,
Never, perhaps, to greet old Scotland more.
R.
B.


by Robert Burns

123. Lines to an Old Sweetheart

 ONCE fondly lov’d, and still remember’d dear,
 Sweet early object of my youthful vows,
Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,
 Friendship! ’tis all cold duty now allows.
And when you read the simple artless rhymes, One friendly sigh for him—he asks no more, Who, distant, burns in flaming torrid climes, Or haply lies beneath th’ Atlantic roar.


by Robert Burns

354. Epigram—The Toad-eater

 OF Lordly acquaintance you boast,
 And the Dukes that you dined wi’ yestreen,
Yet an insect’s an insect at most,
 Tho’ it crawl on the curl of a Queen!


by Robert Burns

182. The Libeller's Self-reproof

 RASH 1 mortal, and slanderous poet, thy name
Shall no longer appear in the records of Fame;
Dost not know that old Mansfield, who writes like the Bible,
Says, the more ’tis a truth, sir, the more ’tis a libel!


 Note 1.
These are rhymes of dubious authenticity.
—Lang.
[back]


by Robert Burns

143. Fragment on Sensibility

 RUSTICITY’S ungainly form
 May cloud the highest mind;
But when the heart is nobly warm,
 The good excuse will find.
Propriety’s cold, cautious rules Warm fervour may o’erlook: But spare poor sensibility Th’ ungentle, harsh rebuke.


by Robert Burns

45. My Girl she's Airy: A Fragment

 MY girl she’s airy, she’s buxom and gay;
Her breath is as sweet as the blossoms in May;
 A touch of her lips it ravishes quite:
She’s always good natur’d, good humour’d, and free;
She dances, she glances, she smiles upon me;
 I never am happy when out of her sight.


by Robert Burns

406. Lines Inscribed in a Lady's Pocket Almanack

 GRANT me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live,
To see the miscreants feel the pains they give;
Deal Freedom’s sacred treasures free as air,
Till Slave and Despot be but things that were.


by Robert Burns

472. To the beautiful Miss Eliza J——n on her principles of Liberty and Eqality

 HOW, Liberty! girl, can it be by thee nam’d?
Equality too! hussey, art not asham’d?
Free and Equal indeed, while mankind thou enchainest,
And over their hearts a proud Despot so reignest.


by Robert Burns

134. Fragment of Song—The Night was Still

 THE NIGHT was still, and o’er the hill
 The moon shone on the castle wa’;
The mavis sang, while dew-drops hang
 Around her on the castle wa’;
Sae merrily they danced the ring
 Frae eenin’ till the cock did craw;
And aye the o’erword o’ the spring
 Was “Irvine’s bairns are bonie a’.


by Robert Burns

120. Epitaph for Gavin Hamilton Esq

 THE POOR man weeps—here Gavin sleeps,
 Whom canting wretches blam’d;
But with such as he, where’er he be,
 May I be sav’d or d—d!


by Robert Burns

323. Epigram on Miss Davies

 ASK why God made the gem so small?
 And why so huge the granite?—
Because God meant mankind should set
 That higher value on it.


by Robert Burns

107. Versified Reply to an Invitation

 SIR,Yours this moment I unseal,
 And faith I’m gay and hearty!
To tell the truth and shame the deil,
 I am as fou as Bartie:
But Foorsday, sir, my promise leal,
 Expect me o’ your partie,
If on a beastie I can speel,
 Or hurl in a cartie.
YOURS,ROBERT BURNS.
MAUCHLIN, Monday night, 10 o’clock.


by Robert Burns

166. Epitaph for William Nicol High School Edinburgh

 YE maggots, feed on Nicol’s brain,
 For few sic feasts you’ve gotten;
And fix your claws in Nicol’s heart,
 For deil a bit o’t’s rotten.


by Robert Burns

410. Epigram—Kirk and State Excisemen

 YE men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering
’Gainst poor Excisemen? Give the cause a hearing:
What are your Landlord’s rent-rolls?—Taxing ledgers!
What Premiers?—What ev’n Monarchs?—Mighty Gaugers!
Nay, what are Priests? (those seeming godly wise-men,)
What are they, pray, but Spiritual Excisemen!


by Robert Burns

154. Lines Inscribed under Fergusson's Portrait

 CURSE on ungrateful man, that can be pleased,
And yet can starve the author of the pleasure.
O thou, my elder brother in misfortune, By far my elder brother in the Muses, With tears I pity thy unhappy fate! Why is the Bard unpitied by the world, Yet has so keen a relish of its pleasures?


by Robert Burns

148. To Miss Logan with Beattie's Poems

 AGAIN the silent wheels of time
 Their annual round have driven,
And you, tho’ scarce in maiden prime,
 Are so much nearer Heaven.
No gifts have I from Indian coasts The infant year to hail; I send you more than India boasts, In Edwin’s simple tale.
Our sex with guile, and faithless love, Is charg’d, perhaps too true; But may, dear maid, each lover prove An Edwin still to you.


by Robert Burns

407. Epigram—Thanks for a National Victory

 YE hypocrites! are these your pranks?
To murder men and give God thanks!
Desist, for shame!—proceed no further;
God won’t accept your thanks for MURTHER