A wee bit o' Burns

[Penny Tray]

But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair,
When the lingering moments are numbered by care?
No flow’rs gaily springing, nor birds sweetly singing,
Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair!

*THE CHEVALIER’S LAMENT

[Penny Tray]

Here, for my wonted rhyming raptures,
I sit and count my sins by chapters;
For life and spunk like ither Christians,
I’m dwindled down to mere existence.

*EPISTLE TO HUGH PARKER

[Penny Tray]

Happiness is but a name,
Make content and ease thy aim.
Ambition is a meteor-gleam;
Fame a restless idle dream;
Pleasures, insects on the wing
Peace, th’ tend’rest flow’r of spring

*VERSES IN FRIAR’S CARSE HERMITAGE

[Penny Tray]

I see her in the dewy flowers –
I see her sweet and fair.
I hear her in the tunefu’ birds –
I hear her charm the air.
There’s not a bonie flower that springs
By fountain, shaw, or green,
There’s not a bonie bird that sings,
But minds me o’ my Jean.

*OF A’ THE AIRTS THE WIND CAN BLAW

[Penny Tray]

As Youth and Love, with sprightly dance
Beneath thy morning star advance,
Pleasure with her siren air
May delude the thoughtless pair;
Let Prudence bless Enjoyment’s cup,
Then raptur’d sip, and sip it up.

*WRITTEN IN FRIAR’S CARSE HERMITAGE, ON NITHSIDE

[Penny Tray]

Even Wedlock asks not love beyond
Death’s tie-dissolving portal;
But thou, omnipotently fond,
May’st promise love immortal!

*TO ALEX. CUNNINGHAM

[Penny Tray]

O, were I on Parnassus hill,
Or had o’ Helicon my fill,
That I might catch poetic skill
To sing how dear I love thee.

*O, WERE I ON PARNASSUS HILL

[Penny Tray]

When Nature her great masterpiece design’d,
And fram’d her last, best work, the human mind,
Her eye intent on all the wondrous plan,
She form’d of various parts the various Man.

*EPISTLE TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ., OF FINTRY

[Penny Tray]

When shall I see that honor’d land,
That winding stream I love so dear?
Must wayward’s Fortune adverse hand
For ever – ever keep me here?

*THE BANKS OF NITH

[Penny Tray]

While day and night can bring delight,
Or Nature aught of pleasure give,
While joys above my mind can move,
For thee, and thee alone, I live.

*THE DAY RETURNS

[Penny Tray]

‘Twas not her golden ringlets bright,
Her lips like roses wat wi’ dew,
Her heaving bosom, lily-white:
It was her een sae bonie blue.

*THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE

[Penny Tray]

Death, oft I’ve fear’d thy fatal blow!
Now fond I bare my breast;
O, do thou kindly lay me low
With him I love, at rest!

*A MOTHER’S LAMENT