How Lang And Dreary Is The Night.

Tune - "Cauld Kail in Aberdeen."


I.

    How lang and dreary is the night,
        When I am frae my dearie;
    I restless lie frae e'en to morn,
        Though I were ne'er sae weary.
            For oh! her lanely nights are lang;
                And oh! her dreams are eerie;
            And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
                That's absent frae her dearie.

II.

    When I think on the lightsome days
        I spent wi' thee my dearie;
    And now what seas between us roar -
        How can I be but eerie?

III.

    How slow ye move, ye heavy hours;
        The joyless day how dreary!
    It was na sae ye glinted by,
        When I was wi' my dearie.
            For oh! her lanely nights are lang;
                And oh, her dreams are eerie;
            And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
                That's absent frae her dearie.

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

Gloomy December.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Written With A Pencil, Standing By The Fall Of Fyers, Near Loch-Ness

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

On Wat.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Farewell.

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.

How Long And Dreary Is The Night.

To a Gaelic air.


I.

    How long and dreary is the night
        When I am frae my dearie!
    I sleepless lie frae e'en to morn,
        Tho' I were ne'er sae weary.
    I sleepless lie frae e'en to morn,
        Tho' I were ne'er sae weary.

II.

    When I think on the happy days
        I spent wi' you, my dearie,
    And now what lands between us lie,
        How can I but be eerie!
    And now what lands between us lie,
        How can I be but eerie!

III.

    How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
        As ye were wae and weary!
    It was na sae ye glinted by,
        When I was wi' my dearie.
    It was na sae ye glinted by,
        When I was wi' my dearie.

Robert Burns

Auld Rob Morris.

I.

    There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen,
    He's the king o' guid fellows and wale of auld men;
    He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,
    And ae bonnie lassie, his darling and mine.

II.

    She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May;
    She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay;
    As blythe and as artless as the lamb on the lea,
    And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e.

III.

    But oh! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird,
    And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;
    A wooer like me mamma hope to come speed;
    The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.

IV.

    The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
    The night comes to me, but my...

Robert Burns

The Gloomy Night.

Tune - "Roslin Castle."


I.

    The gloomy night is gath'ring fast,
    Loud roars the wild inconstant blast;
    Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
    I see it driving o'er the plain;
    The hunter now has left the moor,
    The scatter'd coveys meet secure;
    While here I wander, prest with care,
    Along the lonely banks of Ayr.

II.

    The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn,
    By early Winter's ravage torn;
    Across her placid, azure sky,
    She sees the scowling tempest fly:
    Chill runs my blood to hear it rave,
    I think upon the stormy wave,
    Where many a danger I must dare,
    Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr.

III.

    'Tis not the surging billow's roar,
    'Tis n...

Robert Burns

Ca' The Yowes.

I.

    Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
    Ca' them whare the heather growes,
    Ca' them whare the burnie rowes -
        My bonnie dearie!
    Hark the mavis' evening sang
    Sounding Cluden's woods amang!
    Then a faulding let us gang,
        My bonnie dearie.

II.

    We'll gae down by Cluden side,
    Thro' the hazels spreading wide,
    O'er the waves that sweetly glide
        To the moon sae clearly.

III.

    Yonder Cluden's silent towers,
    Where at moonshine midnight hours,
    O'er the dewy bending flowers,
        Fairies dance so cheery.

IV.

    Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;
    Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear,
    Nocht of ill may come thee near,
        My bo...

Robert Burns

My Heart Was Ance.

Tune - "To the weavers gin ye go."


I.

    My heart was ance as blythe and free
        As simmer days were lang,
    But a bonnie, westlin weaver lad
        Has gart me change my sang.
            To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids,
                To the weavers gin ye go;
            I rede you right gang ne'er at night,
                To the weavers gin ye go.

II.

    My mither sent me to the town,
        To warp a plaiden wab;
    But the weary, weary warpin o't
        Has gart me sigh and sab.

III.

    A bonnie westlin weaver lad,
        Sat working at his loom;
    He took my heart as wi' a net,
        In every knot and thrum.

IV.

    I sat beside my warpin-whee...

Robert Burns

When I Think On The Happy Days.

I.

    When I think on the happy days
        I spent wi' you, my dearie;
    And now what lands between us lie,
        How can I be but eerie!

II.

    How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
        As ye were wae and weary!
    It was na sae ye glinted by,
        When I was wi' my dearie.

Robert Burns