Robert Burns

Poet and lyricist, 1759-1796

Cited as Burns. — 22 quotations

The random beild o' clod or stane.

Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr.

Your bonnie brow was brent.

Cornwallis fought as lang's he dought, An' did the buckskins claw, man.

Contented with little, and canty with mair.

What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.

Affliction's sons are brothers in distress.

Or like the rainbow's lovely form, Evanishing amid the storm.

Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three.

kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er all the ills of life victorious.

And pu'd the gowans fine.

The man's the gowd for a' that.

Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn.

A souple jade she was, and strang.

Your poets, spendthrifts, and other fools of that kidney, pretend, forsooth, to crack their jokes on prudence.

Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree.

And may you better reck the rede Than ever did the adviser.

O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!

It lightens, it brightens, The tenebrific scene.

The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd [gold] for a'that.

To thole the winter's steely dribble.

Through the whins, and by the cairn.