Lovely Davies.

Tune - "Miss Muir."


I.

    O how shall I, unskilfu', try
        The poet's occupation,
    The tunefu' powers, in happy hours,
        That whispers inspiration?
    Even they maun dare an effort mair,
        Than aught they ever gave us,
    Or they rehearse, in equal verse,
        The charms o' lovely Davies.
    Each eye it cheers, when she appears,
        Like Phoebus in the morning.
    When past the shower, and ev'ry flower
        The garden is adorning.
    As the wretch looks o'er Siberia's shore,
        When winter-bound the wave is;
    Sae droops our heart when we maun part
        Frae charming lovely Davies.

II.

    Her smile's a gift, frae 'boon the lift,
        That maks us mair than princes;
    A scepter'd hand, a king's command,
        Is in her darting glances:
    The man in arms, 'gainst female charms,
        Even he her willing slave is;
    He hugs his chain, and owns the reign
        Of conquering, lovely Davies.
    My muse to dream of such a theme,
        Her feeble pow'rs surrender:
    The eagle's gaze alone surveys
        The sun's meridian splendour:
    I wad in vain essay the strain,
        The deed too daring brave is!
    I'll drap the lyre, and mute admire
        The charms o' lovely Davies.

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

When Rosy May.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The American War. - A Fragment.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Here's To Thy Health, My Bonnie Lass.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Lassie Wi' The Lint-White Locks.

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.

Dainty Davie.

I.

    Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
    To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers;
    And now comes in my happy hours,
        To wander wi' my Davie.
            Meet me on the warlock knowe,
                Dainty Davie, dainty Davie,
            There I'll spend the day wi' you,
                My ain dear dainty Davie.

II.

    The crystal waters round us fa',
    The merry birds are lovers a',
    The scented breezes round us blaw,
        A wandering wi' my Davie.

III.

    When purple morning starts the hare,
    To steal upon her early fare,
    Then thro' the dews I will repair,
        To meet my faithfu' Davie

IV.

    When day, expiring in the west,
    The curtain draws o' nature...

Robert Burns

The Lass Of Ballochmyle.

Tune - "Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff."


I.

    'Twas even, the dewy fields were green,
        On every blade the pearls hang,
    The zephyr wanton'd round the bean,
        And bore its fragrant sweets alang:
    In ev'ry glen the mavis sang,
        All nature listening seem'd the while,
    Except where greenwood echoes rang
        Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle!

II.

    With careless step I onward stray'd,
        My heart rejoic'd in nature's joy,
    When musing in a lonely glade,
        A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy;
    Her look was like the morning's eye,
        Her air like nature's vernal smile,
    Perfection whisper'd passing by,
        Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!

III.

Robert Burns

On Cessnock Banks.

Tune - "If he be a butcher neat and trim."


I.

    On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;
        Could I describe her shape and mien;
    Our lasses a' she far excels,
        An she has twa sparkling roguish een.

II.

    She's sweeter than the morning dawn
        When rising Phoebus first is seen,
    And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn;
        An' she has twa sparkling roguish een

III.

    She's stately like yon youthful ash,
        That grows the cowslip braes between,
    And drinks the stream with vigour fresh;
        An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

IV.

    She's spotless like the flow'ring thorn,
        With flow'rs so white and leaves so green,
    When purest in the dew...

Robert Burns

Yon Wild Mossy Mountains.

Tune - "Yon wild mossy mountains."


I.

    Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
    That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,
    Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
    And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.
        Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
        And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.

II.

    Not Gowrie's rich valleys, nor Forth's sunny shores,
    To me hae the charms o' yon wild, mossy moors;
    For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
    Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.
        For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
        Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

Robert Burns

The Highland Lassie.

Tune - "The deuks dang o'er my daddy!"


I.

    Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair,
    Shall ever be my muse's care:
    Their titles a' are empty show;
    Gie me my Highland lassie, O.
            Within the glen sae bushy, O,
            Aboon the plains sae rushy, O,
            I set me down wi' right good-will,
            To sing my Highland lassie, O.

II.

    Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine,
    Yon palace and yon gardens fine,
    The world then the love should know
    I bear my Highland lassie, O.

III.

    But fickle fortune frowns on me,
    And I maun cross the raging sea;
    But while my crimson currents flow,
    I'll love my Highland lassie, O.

IV.

    A...

Robert Burns

The Lover's Morning Salute To His Mistress.

Tune - "Deil tak the Wars."


I.

    Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature?
            Rosy Morn now lifts his eye,
    Numbering ilka bud which nature
            Waters wi' the tears o' joy:
            Now through the leafy woods,
            And by the reeking floods,
    Wild nature's tenants freely, gladly stray;
            The lintwhite in his bower
            Chants o'er the breathing flower;
            The lav'rock to the sky
            Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,
    While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.

II.

    Phoebus gilding the brow o' morning,
            Banishes ilk darksome shade,
    Nature gladdening and adorning;
            Such to me my lovely maid.
            When ...

Robert Burns