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Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear.

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
Cowslip
Tear
Cups
Tears
Shall

More quotes by Robert Burns

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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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O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent
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And wild-scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale.
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Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
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And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan A lady fair. Wha does the utmost that he can Will whyles do mair.
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Beauty's of a fading nature. Has a season and is gone!
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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!
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I look on the opposite sex with something like the admiration with which I regard the starry sky on a frosty December night. I admire the beauty of the Creator's workmanship, I am charmed with the wild but graceful eccentricity of the motions, and then I wish both of them goodnight.
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And O! be sure to fear the Lord alway, And mind your duty, duly, morn and night Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, Implore His counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright.
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Why has a religious turn of mind always a tendency to narrow and harden the heart?
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The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.
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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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Here's to us, who's like us Damn few, and they're all dead.
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Yon rosebuds in the morning-dew, how pure amang the leaves sae green!
Robert Burns
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How wretched is the person who hangs on by the favors of the powerful.
Robert Burns
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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.
Robert Burns
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Life is but a day at most.
Robert Burns
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O, my luve is like a red, red rose.
Robert Burns
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Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.
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When Nature her great masterpiece designed,And framed her last, best work, the human mind,Her eye intent on all the wondrous plan,She formed of various stuff the various Man.
Robert Burns