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Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.--Robert Burns

Robert Burns

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Robert Burns
Age: 37 †
Born: 1759
Born: January 25
Died: 1796
Died: July 21
Farmer
Musicologist
Poet
Songwriter
Writer
Robbie Burns
Rabbie Burns
Scotland's favourite son
Ploughman Poet
Robden of Solway Firth
Bard of Ayrshire
The Bard
Robert Burns
Keep
Sulky
Nursing
Burns
Robert
Wrath
Warm

More quotes by Robert Burns

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I'm truly sorry man's dominion has broken Nature's social union.
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Look abroad through Nature's range, Nature's mighty law is change.
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An atheist's laugh 's a poor exchange For Deity offended!
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Painters and poets have liberty to lie.
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My dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
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Anticipation forward points the view.
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Great for good, or great for evil.
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Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o'daisies white Out o'er the grassy lea.
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But deep this truth impressed my mind — Thro' all his works abroad, The heart benevolent and kind The most resembles God.
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Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme / My barmie noddle's working prime.
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The best laid plans take 40 years to complete.
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An honest man here lies at rest, the friend of man the friend of truth the friend of age and guide of youth. Few hearts like his with virtue warmed, few heads with knowledge so informed. If there's another world, he lives in bliss. If there is none, he made the best of this.
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Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
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Oh, stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay, Nor quit for me the trembling spray, A hapless lover courts thy lay, Thy soothing, fond complaining.
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The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley, And leave us nought but grief and pain, For promised joy.
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For gold the merchant ploughs the main, The farmer ploughs the manor.
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Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear.
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Such is the fate of simple Bard, On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd
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Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die.
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Mankind is an unco squad And muckle he may grieve thee.
Robert Burns