Poems & songs . oding care and grief Deprive my soul of rest,Her dear idea brings reliefAnd solace to my breast,Thou being, All-seeing, O hear my fervent prayr !Still take her, and make herThy most peculiar care ! All hail! ye tender feelings dear!The smile of love, the friendly tear, The sympathetic glow!Long since, this worlds thorny waysHad numberd out my weary days, Had it not been for you !Fate still has blest me with a friend, In every care and ill;And oft a more endearing band,A tie more tender lightens, it brightensThe tenebrific scene,To meet with, and greet with,My Davie or
Poems & songs . oding care and grief Deprive my soul of rest,Her dear idea brings reliefAnd solace to my breast,Thou being, All-seeing, O hear my fervent prayr !Still take her, and make herThy most peculiar care ! All hail! ye tender feelings dear!The smile of love, the friendly tear, The sympathetic glow!Long since, this worlds thorny waysHad numberd out my weary days, Had it not been for you !Fate still has blest me with a friend, In every care and ill;And oft a more endearing band,A tie more tender lightens, it brightensThe tenebrific scene,To meet with, and greet with,My Davie or my Jean ! O how that name inspires my style!The words come skelpin, rank and file, Amaist before I ken!The ready measure rins as fineAs Phoebus and the famous Nine Were glowrin owre my spaviet Pegasus will limp, Till ance hes fairly het;And then hell hilch, and stilt, and jimp,And rin an unco fit: But lest then, the beast then,Should rue this hasty ride,Ill light now, and dight nowHis sweaty, wizend POEMS BY ROBERT BURNS. Is it some blast that gathers in the north,Threatning to nip the verdure of thy bowr 1 Is it, sad owl, that Autumn strips the shade,And leaves thee here, unshelterd and forlorn 1 Or fear that Winter will thy nest invade 1Or friendless melancholy bids thee mourn ? Shut out, lone bird, from all the featherd train,To tell thy sorrows to th unheeding gloom; No friend to pity when thou dost complain,Grief all thy thought, and solitude thy home. Sing on, sad mourner ! I will bless thy strain,And pleasd in sorrow listen to thy song : Sing on, sad mourner ! to the night complain,While the lone echo wafts thy notes along. Is beauty less, when down the glowing cheekSad, piteous tears, in native sorrows fall 1 Less kind the heart when anguish bids it break 1Less happy he who lists to pitys call 1 Ah no, sad owl ! nor is thy voice less sweet,That sadness tunes it, and that grief is there; That springs gay notes, unskilld, thou canst repeat;That sorrow bids t
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Keywords: ., bookauthorburnsrob, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1875
