Quote

Nae man can tether time or tide The hour approachesTam maun ride That hour, o'night's black arch the key-stane, That dreary hourTam mounts his beast in.

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
Time
Ride
Beast
Tether
Hour
Mounts
Keys
Arch
Hours
Arches
Black
Dreary
Night
Tide
Men
Tides

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Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
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Inspiring bold JohnBarleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil!
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The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.
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Again rejoicing Nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, All freshly steep'd in the morning dews.
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The wide world is all before us - but a world without a friend.
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Humid seal of soft affections, Tend'rest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections, Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.
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Not the bee upon the blossom, In the pride o' sunny noon Not the little sporting fairy, All beneath the simmer moon Not the poet, in the moment Fancy lightens in his e'e, Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture, That thy presence gi'es to me.
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Affliction's sons are brothers in distress A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!
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Firmness in enduring and exertion is a character I always wish to possess. I have always despised the whining yelp of complaint and cowardly resolve.
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All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
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Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear.
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Here's to us, who's like us Damn few, and they're all dead.
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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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O, my luve is like a red, red rose.
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How wretched is the person who hangs on by the favors of the powerful.
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Life is but a day at most.
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Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
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Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new.
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The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
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