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Nature's law, That man was made to mourn. Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn! O Death, the poor man's dearest friend, The kindest and the best!

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
Best
Thousands
Made
Friendship
Men
Friend
Law
Kindest
Poor
Inhumanity
Death
Dearest
Makes
Countless
Nature
Mourn

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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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The heart that is generous and kind most resembles God.
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And wild-scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale.
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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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Mankind is a science that defies definitions.
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All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
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If there 's a hole in a' your coats, I rede ye tent it A chiel 's amang ye takin' notes, And, faith, he 'll prent it.
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I'll be merry and free, I'll be sad for nae-body If nae-body cares for me, I'll care for nae-body.
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My Son, these maxims make a rule An lump them ay thegither: The Rigid Righteous is a fool, The Rigid Wise anither.
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And like a passing thought, she fled In light away.
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But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lou'd sae kindly, Had we never lou'd sae blindly, Never met - or never parted - We had ne'er been broken hearted
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When matters are desperate we must put on a desperate face.
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There's some are fou o' love divine There's some are fou o' brandy.
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To make three guineas do the work of five.
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Oh would some power the gift give us, to see ourselves as others see us!
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Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white-then melts for ever . . .
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Good Lord, what is man! for as simple he looks, Do but try to develop his books and his crooks, With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil, All in all, he's a problem must puzzle the devil.
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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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Now Simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the chrystal streamlets plays Come let us spend the lightsome days In the birks of Aberfeldy.
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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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