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amang auld banks bard beautiful bonnie braes Burns Burns's charm dear death early Edinburgh edition English face fair feeling field flowers frae give glen grace green guid hand happy head hear heart Highland hills honest hour human John kind land lass letter light live looks Lord Mary maun meet mind monie morning mourn Muse nature ne'er never night o'er passion pleasure poem poet poetry poor pride race Robert round sang says scene Scotch Scotland Scottish simple sing song soul stanza stream sure sweet tears tell thee things thou thought thro true TUNE turn verse wander wild wind worth wrote young
Page 59 - 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.
Page 156 - OF a' the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best : There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between ; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi
Page 114 - 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 flow'rs 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.
Page 108 - I've notic'd, on our Laird's court-day, An' mony a time my heart's been wae, Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash, How they maun thole a factor's snash : He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear, He'll apprehend them, poind their gear ; While they maun stan', wi' aspect humble, An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble ! I see how folk live that hae riches ; But surely poor folk maun be wretches ? LUATII.
Page 82 - MY lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays : With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end; My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene ; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways; What Aiken in a cottage would have been; Ah ! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween. November chill blaws loud wi...
Page 70 - But, mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain; The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an
Page 113 - WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem. To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonie Lark, companion meet ! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
Page 159 - For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine ; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot Sin auld lang syne.