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Yon rosebuds in the morning-dew, how pure amang the leaves sae green!

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
Morning
Rosebuds
Bud
Dew
Royalty
Leaves
Rose
Green
Pure

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There is no such uncertainty as a sure thing.
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Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.
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To see her is to love her, And love but her forever For nature made her what she is, And never made anither!
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There's some are fou o' love divine There's some are fou o' brandy.
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As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.
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Beauty's of a fading nature. Has a season and is gone!
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Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear.
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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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Mankind is an unco squad And muckle he may grieve thee.
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And like a passing thought, she fled In light away.
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Learn taciturnity and let that be your motto!
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Anticipation forward points the view.
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Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
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