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Quote by Robert Burns

Work

The works of Robert Burns: containing his life, by John Lockhart, esq. ; the poetry and correspondence of Dr. Currie's edition ; biographical sketches of the poet by himself, Gilbert Burns, Professor Stewart, and others

This volume is a compilation of Robert Burns' works, including his life story as narrated by John Lockhart, his poetry, and correspondence from Dr. Currie's edition. The book also includes biographical sketches of Burns by himself, his brother Gilbert Burns, and other contributors such as Professor Stewart. more

Author

Robert Burns
Robert Burns

Robert Burns, born on January 25, 1759, and died on July 21, 1796, was a renowned Scottish poet. Known for his accessible poetry style and profound social criticism, Burns' works cover a wide range of themes, including love, nature, and the lives of the working people. more

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“In the same way, you were happy in spring, With the half colors of quarter-things, The slightly brighter sky, the melting clouds, The single bird, the obscure moon- The obscure moon lighting an obscure world Of thing that would never be quite expressed, Where you yourself were never quite yourself And did not want nor have to be.”

“Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o'daisies white Out o'er the grassy lea.”

“To the garden of the world anew descending, Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding, The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being, Curious here behold my resurrection after slumber, The revolving cycles in their wide sweep having brought me again, amorous, mature, all beautiful to me, all wondrous, My limbs and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for reasons, most wondrous, Existing I peer and penetrate still, Content with the present, content with the past, By my side or back of me Eve following, Or in front, and I following her just the same.”

“The thorn tree just began to bud And greening stained the sheltering hedge, An many a violet beside the wood Peeped blue between the withered sedge; The sun gleamed warm the bank beside, 'Twas pleasant wandering out a while Neath nestling bush to lonely hide, Or bend a musings o'er a stile.”