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appears arms auld bard better bonnie Burns character comes dead dear death drink e'er face fair faith fate fear feelings fell frae grace guid hand head hear heard heart holy honest honour hope hour human John keep kind lasses late light Lord mair maun meet mind mony morn mourn muse nature ne'er never night noble o'er owre perhaps person pleasure poem poet poetical poor present pride rhyme roar Robert round scene Scotland side sing stanza sweet tell thee There's thing thou thought thro Till true Tune turn unco weel Whistle worth ye'll
Seite 137 - 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.
Seite 212 - Tam tint his reason a' thegither, And roars out: "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" And in an instant all was dark; And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, When plundering herds assail their byke: As open pussie's mortal foes, When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd, When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud: So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' monie an eldritch skreech and hollow, Ah, Tam!
Seite 94 - 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.
Seite 325 - mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, "When upward-springing, blythe, to greet, The purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Upon thy early, humble birth ; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield ; But thou, beneath the random bield O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field Unseen, alane.
Seite 209 - The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll: When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze ; Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing; And loud resounded mirth and dancing. — Inspiring bold John Barleycorn ! What dangers thou canst make us scorn ! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil!
Seite 206 - Tam ! hadst thou but been sae wise, As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice ! She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum ; That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou was nae sober ; That ilka melder, wi...
Seite 114 - An' naething, now, to big a new ane, 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' thy cell. That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Seite 210 - Nick, in shape o' beast; A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, To gie them music was his charge: He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl, Till roof and rafters a...
Seite 138 - He who stills the raven's clamorous nest, And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide; But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside.