The Day Returns.

Tune - "Seventh of November."


I.

    The day returns, my bosom burns,
        The blissful day we twa did meet,
    Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd,
        Ne'er summer-sun was half sae sweet.
    Than a' the pride that loads the tide,
        And crosses o'er the sultry line;
    Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,
        Heaven gave me more, it made thee mine!

II.

    While day and night can bring delight,
        Or nature aught of pleasure give,
    While joys above my mind can move,
        For thee, and thee alone I live.
    When that grim foe of life below,
        Comes in between to make us part,
    The iron hand that breaks our band,
        It breaks my bliss, it breaks my heart.

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

On Miss Jean Scott.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

On Wee Johnny. Hic Jacet Wee Johnny.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Lines Sent To Sir John Whitefoord, Bart., Of Whitefoord. With The Foregoing Poem.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Gallant Weaver.

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.

Robert Burns.

(A PARAPHRASE.)


I.

Thou lingering Star! No less'ning ray
    Will e'er bedim thy natal morn,
Or usher in the unhallowed day
    When we forget that thou wert born!
O Burns! Thou dear departed shade!
    Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou again a Highland maid,
    Who heard the groans that rent thy breast?


II.

That sacred day can we forget,
    Can we forget the hallowed spot
Where by the winding Ayr was set
    The sparkling jewel in lowly cot?
Eternity will not efface
    The record dear of time that's past;
Thy memory sweet we still embrace,
    And will as long as life shall last!


III.

Ayr, congealèd to its pebbled shore,
    O'erhung with wild woods, shorn of gree...

George W. Doneghy

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

Sketch. - New Year's Day. To Mrs. Dunlop.

    This day, Time winds th' exhausted chain,
    To run the twelvemonth's length again:
    I see the old, bald-pated follow,
    With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
    Adjust the unimpair'd machine,
    To wheel the equal, dull routine.

    The absent lover, minor heir,
    In vain assail him with their prayer;
    Deaf as my friend, he sees them press,
    Nor makes the hour one moment less.
    Will you (the Major's with the hounds,
    The happy tenants share his rounds;
    Coila's fair Rachel's care to-day,
    And blooming Keith's engaged with Gray)
    From housewife cares a minute borrow,
    That grandchild's cap will do to-morrow,
    And join with me a moralizing,
    This day's propitious to be wise in.

    First, what did...

Robert Burns

Lament, Occasioned By The Unfortunate Issue Of A Friend's Amour.

    "Alas! how oft does goodness wound itself!
    And sweet affection prove the spring of woe."

Home.


I.

    O thou pale orb, that silent shines,
        While care-untroubled mortals sleep!
    Thou seest a wretch who inly pines,
        And wanders here to wail and weep!
    With woe I nightly vigils keep,
        Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam,
    And mourn, in lamentation deep,
        How life and love are all a dream.

II.

    A joyless view thy rays adorn
        The faintly marked distant hill:
    I joyless view thy trembling horn,
        Reflected in the gurgling rill:
    My fondly-fluttering heart, be still:
        Thou busy pow'r, Remembrance, cease!
    Ah! must the agonizing thrill
    ...

Robert Burns

Forlorn, My Love, No Comfort Near.

Tune - "Let me in this ae night."



I.

    Forlorn, my love, no comfort near,
    Far, far from thee, I wander here;
    Far, far from thee, the fate severe
        At which I most repine, love.
            O wert thou, love, but near me;
            But near, near, near me;
            How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
                And mingle sighs with mine, love

II.

    Around me scowls a wintry sky,
    That blasts each bud of hope and joy;
    And shelter, shade, nor home have I,
        Save in those arms of thine, love.

III.

    Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,
    To poison Fortune's ruthless dart,
    Let me not break thy faithful heart,
        And say that fate is mine, lov...

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