Robert Burns Poetry Bot
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Robert Burns Poetry Bot
@robertburnsbot.bsky.social
A delightful bot sharing snippets of Rabbie’s classic works. Poems of romance and radical liberalism.
Thou dost deny, Assist me to resign!
December 2, 2025 at 6:37 PM
fulfil, Here, firm, I rest, they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want (O, do thou grant This one request of mine!) Since to enjoy
December 2, 2025 at 12:37 PM
griefs it seems to join; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine
December 2, 2025 at 6:37 AM
the sky o'ercast,"[1] The joyless winter day Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, My
December 2, 2025 at 5:26 AM
tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae; And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. "The sweeping blast,
December 1, 2025 at 11:26 PM
Reposted by Robert Burns Poetry Bot
Robert Burns & the Glenriddell Manuscripts
22 Jan 2026, @natlibscot.bsky.social Edinburgh – free

Discover the incredible story of the Glenriddell Manuscripts – the largest collection of Robert Burns’s original writings in the world
#C18th #poetry #song #letters
www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/robert-bur...
Robert Burns and the Glenriddell Manuscripts
Curator Ralph McLean explores Robert Burns’ Glennriddell Manuscripts, which contain one of the greatest collections of the Bard's work.
www.eventbrite.co.uk
December 1, 2025 at 5:55 PM
A DIRGE. The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw; While
December 1, 2025 at 5:26 PM
can either sing or whissle, Your friend and servant.
December 1, 2025 at 11:26 AM
brothers! But, to conclude my lang epistle, As my auld pen's worn to the grissle; Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle, Who am, most fervent, While I
December 1, 2025 at 5:26 AM
Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms, Who hold your being on the terms, "Each aid the others," Come to my bowl, come to my arms, My friends, my
December 1, 2025 at 3:36 AM
love an' friendship, should give place To catch-the-plack! I dinna like to see your face, Nor hear your crack. But ye whom social pleasure charms,
November 30, 2025 at 9:36 PM
cheer our heart; An' faith, we'se be acquainted better, Before we part. Awa, ye selfish, warly race, Wha think that havins, sense, an' grace, Ev'n
November 30, 2025 at 3:36 PM
rhymin'-ware Wi' ane anither. The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter, An' kirsen him wi' reekin' water; Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter, To
November 30, 2025 at 9:36 AM
But Mauchline race, or Mauchline fair; I should be proud to meet you there! We'se gie ae night's discharge to care, If we forgather, An' hae a swap o'
November 30, 2025 at 3:36 AM
like the lasses--Gude forgie me! For monie a plack they wheedle frae me, At dance or fair; May be some ither thing they gie me They weel can spare.
November 29, 2025 at 9:36 PM
an' folk that wish me well, They sometimes roose me; Tho' I maun own, as monie still As far abuse me. There's ae wee faut they whiles lay to me, I
November 29, 2025 at 3:36 PM
fou, I'se no insist, But gif ye want ae friend that's true-- I'm on your list. I winna blaw about mysel; As ill I like my fauts to tell; But friends
November 29, 2025 at 3:01 PM
would be lear eneugh for me, If I could get it. Now, sir, if ye hae friends enow, Tho' real friends, I b'lieve, are few, Yet, if your catalogue be
November 29, 2025 at 9:01 AM
May touch the heart. O for a spunk o' Allan's glee, Or Fergusson's, the bauld and slee, Or bright Lapraik's, my friend to be, If I can hit it! That
November 29, 2025 at 3:01 AM
spark o' Nature's fire! That's a' the learning I desire; Then though I drudge thro' dub an' mire At pleugh or cart, My muse, though hamely in attire,
November 28, 2025 at 9:01 PM
in college classes! They gang in stirks and come out asses, Plain truth to speak; An' syne they think to climb Parnassus By dint o' Greek! Gie me ae
November 28, 2025 at 3:01 PM
you fools, What sairs your grammars? Ye'd better taen up spades and shools, Or knappin-hammers. A set o' dull, conceited hashes, Confuse their brains
November 28, 2025 at 2:27 PM
your leaves, my learned foes, Ye're may-be wrang. What's a' your jargon o' your schools, Your Latin names for horns an' stools; If honest nature made
November 28, 2025 at 8:27 AM
jingle at her. Your critic-folk may cock their nose, And say, "How can you e'er propose, You, wha ken hardly verse frae prose, To mak a sang?" But, by
November 28, 2025 at 2:27 AM
poet in a sense, But just a rhymer, like, by chance, An' hae to learning nae pretence, Yet what the matter? Whene'er my Muse does on me glance, I
November 27, 2025 at 8:27 PM