The First Psalm.

    The man, in life wherever plac'd,
        Hath happiness in store,
    Who walks not in the wicked's way,
        Nor learns their guilty lore!

    Nor from the seat of scornful pride
        Casts forth his eyes abroad,
    But with humility and awe
        Still walks before his GOD.

    That man shall flourish like the trees
        Which by the streamlets grow;
    The fruitful top is spread on high,
        And firm the root below.

    But he whose blossom buds in guilt
        Shall to the ground be cast,
    And, like the rootless stubble, tost
        Before the sweeping blast.

    For why? that GOD the good adore
        Hath giv'n them peace and rest,
    But hath decreed that wicked men
        Shall ne'er be truly blest.

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

Auld Lang Syne.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Whan I Sleep I Dream.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Adown Winding Nith.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Cassillis' Banks.

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.

The First Six Verses Of The Ninetieth Psalm.

    O Thou, the first, the greatest friend
        Of all the human race!
    Whose strong right hand has ever been
        Their stay and dwelling place!

    Before the mountains heav'd their heads
        Beneath Thy forming hand,
    Before this ponderous globe itself
        Arose at Thy command;

    That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds
        This universal frame,
    From countless, unbeginning time
        Was ever still the same.

    Those mighty periods of years
        Which seem to us so vast,
    Appear no more before Thy sight
        Than yesterday that's past.

    Thou giv'st the word: Thy creature, man,
        Is to existence brought;
    Again thou say'st, "Ye sons of men,
        Return ye into no...

Robert Burns

Stanzas - On The Same Occasion.

    Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?
        How I so found it full of pleasing charms?
    Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between:
        Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms:
    Is it departing pangs my soul alarms?
        Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode?
    For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms;
        I tremble to approach an angry God,
    And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod.

    Fain would I say, "Forgive my foul offence!"
        Fain promise never more to disobey;
    But, should my Author health again dispense,
        Again I might desert fair virtue's way:
    Again in folly's path might go astray;
        Again exalt the brute and sink the man;
    Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray,

Robert Burns

Despondency. - An Ode.

I.

    Oppress'd with grief, oppress'd with care,
    A burden more than I can bear,
        I set me down and sigh:
    O life! thou art a galling load,
    Along a rough, a weary road,
        To wretches such as I!
    Dim-backward as I cast my view,
        What sick'ning scenes appear!
    What sorrows yet may pierce me thro'
        Too justly I may fear!
            Still caring, despairing,
                Must be my bitter doom;
            My woes here shall close ne'er
                But with the closing tomb!

II.

    Happy, ye sons of busy life,
    Who, equal to the bustling strife,
        No other view regard!
    Ev'n when the wished end's deny'd,
    Yet while the busy means are ply'd,
        They b...

Robert Burns

Psal. I. Done into Verse

Bless'd is the man who hath not walk'd astray
In counsel of the wicked, and ith'way
Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat
Of scorners hath not sate. But in the great
Jehovahs Law is ever his delight,
And in his law he studies day and night.
He shall be as a tree which planted grows
By watry streams, and in his season knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall.
And what he takes in hand shall prosper all.
Not so the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd
The wind drives, so the wicked shall not stand
In judgment, or abide their tryal then
Nor sinners in th'assembly of just men.
For the Lord knows th'upright way of the just
And the way of bad men to ruine must.

John Milton

Address To The Unco Guid, Or The Rigidly Righteous.

    "My son, these maxims make a rule,
        And lump them ay thegither;
    The Rigid Righteous is a fool,
        The Rigid Wise anither:
    The cleanest corn that e'er was dight
        May hae some pyles o' caff in;
    So ne'er a fellow-creature slight
        For random fits o' daffin."

Solomon. - Eccles. ch. vii. ver. 16.


I.

    O ye wha are sae guid yoursel',
        Sae pious and sae holy,
    Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
        Your neibor's fauts and folly!
    Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
        Supply'd wi' store o' water,
    The heaped happer's ebbing still,
        And still the clap plays clatter.

II.

    Hear me, ye venerable core,
        As counsel for poor mortals...

Robert Burns

Written In Friars-Carse Hermitage, On Nithside. December, 1788.

    Thou whom chance may hither lead,
    Be thou clad in russet weed,
    Be thou deck'd in silken stole,
    Grave these counsels on thy soul.

    Life is but a day at most,
    Sprung from night, in darkness lost;
    Hope not sunshine ev'ry hour.
    Fear not clouds will always lour.
    As Youth and Love with sprightly dance
    Beneath thy morning star advance,
    Pleasure with her siren air
    May delude the thoughtless pair:
    Let Prudence bless enjoyment's cup,
    Then raptur'd sip, and sip it up.

    As thy day grows warm and high,
    Life's meridian flaming nigh,
    Dost thou spurn the humble vale?
    Life's proud summits would'st thou scale?
    Check thy climbing step, elate,
    Evils lurk in felon wait:
  ...

Robert Burns