ROBERT BURNS QUOTES II

Scottish poet & lyricist (1759-1796)

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!

ROBERT BURNS

To a Mouse


If there's another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.

ROBERT BURNS

Epitaph on William Muir


Suspense is worse than disappointment.

ROBERT BURNS

letter to Thomas Sloan, 1 September 1791


If naebody care for me,
I'll care for naebody.

ROBERT BURNS

I Hae a Wife o' my Ain


It's hardly in a body's pow'r,
To keep, at times, frae being sour.

ROBERT BURNS

Epistle to Davie


Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman;
Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang,
To step aside is human.

ROBERT BURNS

Address to the Unco Guid


The fear o' hell 's a hangman's whip
To haud the wretch in order;
But where ye feel your honour grip,
Let that aye be your border.

ROBERT BURNS

Epistle to a Young Friend


The voice of Nature loudly cries,
And many a message from the skies,
That something in us never dies.

ROBERT BURNS

New Year's Day


Wee, modest, crimson-tippèd flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem:
To spare thee now is past my pow'r,
Thou bonie gem.

ROBERT BURNS

To a Mountain Daisy


Beauty's of a fading nature
Has a season and is gone!

ROBERT BURNS

Will Ye Go and Marry Katie?


Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
The desert were a paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there.

ROBERT BURNS

O, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast


Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

ROBERT BURNS

Epistle to a Young Friend


Misled by fancy's meteor ray,
By passion driven;
But yet the light that led astray
Was light from heaven.

ROBERT BURNS

The Vision


Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her prentice han' she tried on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.

ROBERT BURNS

Green Grow the Rashes, O


The golden Hours on angel wings
Flew o'er me and my Dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

ROBERT BURNS

Highland Mary