The Works of Robert Burns: General correspondence, including pieces of miscellaneous poetry

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T. Cadell and W. Davies, 1806

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Сторінка 63 - No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, 'No storied urn nor animated bust;' This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust.
Сторінка 253 - Man, this is one of the most extraordinary, that he shall go on from day to day, from week to week, from month to month...
Сторінка 197 - I have some favourite flowers in spring, among which are the mountain-daisy, the hare-bell, the fox-glove, the wild-brier rose, the budding birch, and the hoary hawthorn, that I view and hang over with particular delight.
Сторінка 447 - ... disfigure them, are yet, I am convinced, original and component parts of the human soul ; those senses of the mind, if I may be allowed the expression, which connect us with, and link us to, those awful obscure realities — an allpowerful, and equally beneficent God ; and a world to come, beyond death and the grave.
Сторінка 196 - Bagdat in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life; and, passing from one thought to another, surely, said I, man is but a shadow and life a dream.
Сторінка 11 - I believe, may be partly owing to my misfortunes giving my mind a melancholy cast : but there is something even in the ' Mighty tempest, and the hoary waste, Abrupt, and deep stretch'd o'er the buried earth," which raises the mind to a serious sublimity favourable to every thing great and noble.
Сторінка 190 - Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, And fill it in a silver tassie, That I may drink, before I go, A service to my bonnie lassie. The boat rocks at the pier o...
Сторінка 319 - As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.
Сторінка 329 - Coffins stood round, like open presses, That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses; And, by some devilish...
Сторінка 448 - THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of THEE. Forth in the pleasing Spring THY beauty walks, THY tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart is joy. Then comes THY glory in the Summer months, With light and heat refulgent. Then THY sun...

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