When Rosy May.

Tune - "The gardener wi' his paidle."


I.

    When rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
    To deck her gay green-spreading bowers,
    Then busy, busy are his hours,
        The gard'ner wi' his paidle
    The crystal waters gently fa';
    The merry birds are lovers a';
    The scented breezes round him blaw,
        The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

II.

    When purple morning starts the hare
    To steal upon her early fare,
    Then thro' the dews he maun repair,
        The gard'ner wi' his paidle.
    When day, expiring in the west,
    The curtain draws of nature's rest,
    He flies to her arms he lo'es best,
        The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

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

Gudeen To You, Kimmer.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Banks Of Nith.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Nithsdale's Welcome Hame.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

A Grace Before Meat.

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 Red, Red Rose.

Air - "Hughie Graham."



I.

    O were my love yon lilac fair,
        Wi' purple blossoms to the spring;
    And I, a bird to shelter there,
        When wearied on my little wing!
    How I wad mourn, when it was torn
        By autumn wild, and winter rude!
    But I wad sing on wanton wing,
        When youthfu' May its bloom renewed.

II.

    O gin my love were yon red rose,
        That grows upon the castle wa';
    And I mysel' a drap o' dew,
        Into her bonnie breast to fa'!
    Oh, there beyond expression blest,
        I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
    Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
        Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light.

Robert Burns

O Bonnie Was Yon Rosy Brier.

I.

    O Bonnie was yon rosy brier,
        That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man,
    And bonnie she, and ah, how dear!
        It shaded frae the e'enin sun.

II.

    Yon rosebuds in the morning dew
        How pure, amang the leaves sae green:
    But purer was the lover's vow
        They witness'd in their shade yestreen.

III.

    All in its rude and prickly bower,
        That crimson rose, how sweet and fair!
    But love is far a sweeter flower
        Amid life's thorny path o' care.

IV.

    The pathless wild, and wimpling burn,
        Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine;
    And I the world, nor wish, nor scorn,
        Its joys and griefs alike resign.

Robert Burns

A Red, Red Rose.

Tune - "Graham's Strathspey."


I.

    O, my luve's like a red, red rose,
        That's newly sprung in June:
    O, my luve's like the melodie,
        That's sweetly play'd in tune.

II.

    As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
        So deep in luve am I:
    And I will luve thee still, my dear,
        'Till a' the seas gang dry.

III.

    'Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
        And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
    I will luve thee still, my dear,
        While the sands o' life shall run.

IV.

    And fare thee weel, my only luve!
        And fare thee weel a-while!
    And I will come again, my luve,
        Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

Robert Burns

Chloris.

Air - "My lodging is on the cold ground."


I.

    My Chloris, mark how green the groves,
        The primrose banks how fair:
    The balmy gales awake the flowers,
        And wave thy flaxen hair.

II.

    The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
        And o'er the cottage sings;
    For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
        To shepherds as to kings

III.

    Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string
        In lordly lighted ha':
    The shepherd stops his simple reed,
        Blythe, in the birken shaw.

IV.

    The princely revel may survey
        Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
    But are their hearts as light as ours,
        Beneath the milk-white thorn?

V.

    ...

Robert Burns

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

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