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Robert Burns

Robert Burns

A Prayer Under the Pressure of Violent Anguish

O THOU Great Being! what Thou art,
Surpasses me to know;
Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
Are all Thy works below.
 
 
Thy creature here before Thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;
Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey Thy high behest.
 
 
Sure, Thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath!
O, free my weary eyes from tears,
Or close them fast in death!
 
 
But, if I must afflicted be,
To suit some wise design,
Then man my soul with firm resolves,
To bear and not repine!

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Other works by Robert Burns...
The Charms of Lovely Davies

O how shall I, unskilfu’, try The Poet’s occupation? The tunefu’ powers, in happy hours… That whisper, inspiration, Even they maun dare an effort mair
The Hairst O' Rettie

I hae seen the hairst o’ Rettie,… And twa—three aff the throne. I’ve heard o sax and seven weeks The hairsters girn and groan. But wi’ a covie Willie Rae
A Poet’s Welcome To His Love Begotten Daughter

Thou’s welcome, wean; mishanter fa… If thoughts o’ thee, or yet thy ma… Shall ever daunton me or awe me, My bonie lady, Or if I blush when thou shalt ca’…
Address to Wm. Tytler, Esq., of Woodhouselee

REVERED defender of beauteous… Of Stuart, a name once respected; A name, which to love was the mark… But now 'tis despis’d and neglecte… Tho’ something like moisture congl…
Sic a wife as Willie’s Wife

Willie Wastle dwalls on Tweed, The spot they ca’ it Linkumdoddie… A creeshie wabster till his trade, Can steal a clue wi’ ony body: He has a wife that’s dour and din,
Lass That Made the Bed to Me, The

When Januar’ wind was blawing cau… As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na whare to lodge till day: By my gude luck a maid I met,
Epigram on Dr. Babington’s Looks

THAT there is a falsehood in his… I must and will deny: They tell their Master is a knave… And sure they do not lie.
Tibbie Dunbar

O, wilt thou go wi’ me, Sweet Tibbie Dunbar? O, wilt thou go wi’ me, Sweet Tibbie Dunbar? Wilt thou ride on a horse,
"John Anderson my jo, John"

John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John,
Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning Salutation to His Auld Mare, Maggie on giving her the accustomed ripp of corn to hansel in the New-Year, The

A Guide New—year I wish thee, Ma… Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld ba… Tho’ thou’s howe—backit now, an’ k… I’ve seen the day There could hae gaen like ony stag…
Damon And Sylvia

YON wandering rill that marks the… And glances o’er the brae, Sir, Slides by a bower, where mony a fl… Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir; There Damon lay, with Sylvia gay,
Song—bonie Dundee: A Fragment

MY blessin’s upon thy sweet wee l… My blessin’s upon thy e’e-brie! Thy smiles are sae like my blythe… Thou’s aye the dearer, and dearer… But I’ll big a bow’r on yon bonie…
Tam O 'Shanter

When chapman billies leave the str… And drouthy neebors neebors meet, As market—days are wearing late, And folk begin to tak the gate; While we sit bousin, at the nappy,
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O Aye my Wife She Dang Me

O aye my wife she dang me, An’ aft my wife she bang’d me, If ye gie a woman a’ her will, Gude faith she’ll soon o’ergang ye… On peace and rest my mind was bent…
Epigram to Miss Ainslie in Church

FAIR maid, you need not take the… Nor idle texts pursue: 'Twas guilty sinners that he meant… Not Angels such as you.



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