The Poems and Songs of Robert Burns

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P.F. Collier & son, 1909 - 609 pagine
 

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Pagina 192 - Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, The moving Why they do it ; And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Pagina 469 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, O!
Pagina 201 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is...
Pagina 382 - MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. MY heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer ; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Pagina 124 - O' foggage green! An' bleak December's winds 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
Pagina 333 - AULD LANG SYNE SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind ? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne ! Chorus. — For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne. We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne.
Pagina 142 - Is there, in human form, that bears a heart — A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and truth! That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ? Curse on his perjured arts ! dissembling smooth ! Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exiled ? Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, Points to the parents fondling o'er their child ? Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild?
Pagina 124 - But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an
Pagina 415 - In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin! Kate soon will be a woefu
Pagina 510 - O, MY luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June : O, my luve's like the melodie That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I : And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a

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