THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS

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Página 108 - Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays; Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing,' That thus they all shall meet in future days, There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear, While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Página 106 - But hark! a rap comes gently to the door; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neibor lad cam o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek; Wi...
Página 154 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
Página 105 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant...
Página 111 - Yes, let the rich deride, the proud disdain. These simple blessings of the lowly train ; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm than all the gloss of art.
Página 97 - Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow. Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin! In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin! Kate soon will be a woefu
Página 93 - O'er a' the ills o' life victorious ! But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed ; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white — then melts for ever ; Or like the Borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place ; Or like the Rainbow's lovely form Evanishing amid the storm.
Página 93 - The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter ; And ay the ale was growing better : The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious : The Souter tauld his queerest stories ; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus : The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.
Página 94 - And sic a night he taks the road in, As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling...
Página 108 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; .Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And ' Let us worship God !* he says, with solemn air.

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