But Lately Seen.

Tune - "The winter of life."



I.

    But lately seen in gladsome green,
        The woods rejoiced the day;
    Thro' gentle showers and laughing flowers,
        In double pride were gay:
    But now our joys are fled
        On winter blasts awa!
    Yet maiden May, in rich array,
        Again shall bring them a'.


II.

    But my white pow, nae kindly thowe
        Shall melt the snaws of age;
    My trunk of eild, but buss or bield,
        Sinks in Time's wintry rage.
    Oh! age has weary days,
        And nights o' sleepless pain!
    Thou golden time o' youthfu' prime,
        Why comes thou not again?

Robert Burns

Robert Burns, also known as Rabbie Burns, the Bard of Ayrshire, and various other names and epithets, was a Scottish poet and lyricist. He is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland and is celebrated worldwide. Born on January 25, 1759, in Alloway, he is best known for works such as 'Auld Lang Syne,' 'Scots Wha Hae,' and 'A Red, Red Rose.' He passed away on July 21, 1796, in Dumfries.

Robert Burns

How Lang And Dreary Is The Night.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

On The Same. (On A Henpecked Country Squire.)

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

O Luve Will Venture In.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

A Prayer - In The Prospect Of Death.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Now Spring Has Clad The Grove In Green. To Mr. Cunningham.

I.

    Now spring has clad the grove in green,
        And strew'd the lea wi' flowers:
    The furrow'd waving corn is seen
        Rejoice in fostering showers;
    While ilka thing in nature join
        Their sorrows to forego,
    O why thus all alone are mine
        The weary steps of woe?

II.

    The trout within yon wimpling burn
        Glides swift, a silver dart,
    And safe beneath the shady thorn
        Defies the angler's art:
    My life was ance that careless stream,
        That wanton trout was I;
    But love, wi' unrelenting beam,
        Has scorch'd my fountains dry.

III.

    The little flow'ret's peaceful lot,
        In yonder cliff that grows,
    Which, save the linnet's flight...

Robert Burns

Menie.

Tune. - "Johnny's grey breeks."


I.

    Again rejoicing nature sees
        Her robe assume its vernal hues,
    Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
        All freshly steep'd in morning dews.
            And maun I still on Menie doat,
                And bear the scorn that's in her e'e?
            For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,
                An' it winna let a body be.

II.

    In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
        In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
    In vain to me, in glen or shaw,
        The mavis and the lintwhite sing.

III.

    The merry plough-boy cheers his team,
        Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks;
    But life to me's a weary dream,
        A dream of ane t...

Robert Burns

Lament For James, Earl Of Glencairn.

I.

    The wind blew hollow frae the hills,
        By fits the sun's departing beam
    Look'd on the fading yellow woods
        That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream:
    Beneath a craggy steep, a bard,
        Laden with years and meikle pain,
    In loud lament bewail'd his lord,
        Whom death had all untimely ta'en.

II.

    He lean'd him to an ancient aik,
        Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years;
    His locks were bleached white with time,
        His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears;
    And as he touch'd his trembling harp,
        And as he tun'd his doleful sang,
    The winds, lamenting thro' their caves,
        To echo bore the notes alang.

III.

    "Ye scattered birds that faintly sing,<...

Robert Burns

Lament Of Mary, Queen Of Scots, On The Approach Of Spring.

I.

    Now Nature hangs her mantle green
        On every blooming tree,
    And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
        Out o'er the grassy lea:
    Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams,
        And glads the azure skies;
    But nought can glad the weary wight
        That fast in durance lies.

II.

    Now lav'rocks wake the merry morn,
        Aloft on dewy wing;
    The merle, in his noontide bow'r,
        Makes woodland echoes ring;
    The mavis wild wi' mony a note,
        Sings drowsy day to rest:
    In love and freedom they rejoice,
        Wi' care nor thrall opprest.

III.

    Now blooms the lily by the bank,
        The primrose down the brae;
    The hawthorn's budding in the glen,

Robert Burns

The Lazy Mist.

Tune - "The lazy mist."


I.

    The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill,
    Concealing the course of the dark winding rill;
    How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear!
    As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year.
    The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown,
    And all the gay foppery of summer is flown:
    Apart let me wander, apart let me muse,
    How quick Time is flying, how keen Fate pursues!

II.

    How long have I liv'd, but how much liv'd in vain!
    How little of life's scanty span may remain!
    What aspects, old Time, in his progress, has worn!
    What ties cruel Fate in my bosom has torn!
    How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gain'd!
    And downward, how weaken'd, how dar...

Robert Burns

Craigie-Burn Wood.

I.

    Sweet fa's the eve on Craigie-burn,
        And blithe awakes the morrow;
    But a' the pride o' spring's return
        Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

II.

    I see the flowers and spreading trees
        I hear the wild birds singing;
    But what a weary wight can please,
        And care his bosom wringing?

III.

    Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
        Yet dare na for your anger;
    But secret love will break my heart,
        If I conceal it langer.

IV.

    If thou refuse to pity me,
        If thou shall love anither,
    When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
        Around my grave they'll wither.

Robert Burns