Round Burns' Grave: The Paeans and Dirges of Many BardsA. Gardner, 1891 - 316 pages |
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Page 15
... streams among . They linger by the Doon's low trees , And pastoral Nith , and wooded Ayr , And round thy sepulchres , Dumfries ! The poet's tomb is there . But what to them the sculptor's art , His funeral columns , wreaths , and urns ...
... streams among . They linger by the Doon's low trees , And pastoral Nith , and wooded Ayr , And round thy sepulchres , Dumfries ! The poet's tomb is there . But what to them the sculptor's art , His funeral columns , wreaths , and urns ...
Page 19
... streams he wandered near ; The maidens whom he loved ; the songs he sung- All - all are dear ! The arch blue eyes- Arch but for love's disguise- Of Scotland's daughters , soften at his strain ; Her hardy sons , sent forth across the ...
... streams he wandered near ; The maidens whom he loved ; the songs he sung- All - all are dear ! The arch blue eyes- Arch but for love's disguise- Of Scotland's daughters , soften at his strain ; Her hardy sons , sent forth across the ...
Page 21
... streams may speed along , As bright thy summer suns may glow , As gaily charm thy feathery throng ; But now , unheeded is the song , And dull and lifeless all around , For his wild harp lies all unstrung , And cold the hand that waked ...
... streams may speed along , As bright thy summer suns may glow , As gaily charm thy feathery throng ; But now , unheeded is the song , And dull and lifeless all around , For his wild harp lies all unstrung , And cold the hand that waked ...
Page 24
... streaming eyes , In silent grief where droops her head , The partner of his early joys ; And let his infants ' tender cries His fond parental succour claim , And bid him hear in agonies A husband's and a father's name . ' Tis done , the ...
... streaming eyes , In silent grief where droops her head , The partner of his early joys ; And let his infants ' tender cries His fond parental succour claim , And bid him hear in agonies A husband's and a father's name . ' Tis done , the ...
Page 26
... his hand , the wayside weed Becomes a flower ; the lowliest reed Beside the stream Is clothed in beauty ; gorse and grass And heather , where his footsteps pass , The brighter seem . He sings of love , whose flame illumes The darkness 26.
... his hand , the wayside weed Becomes a flower ; the lowliest reed Beside the stream Is clothed in beauty ; gorse and grass And heather , where his footsteps pass , The brighter seem . He sings of love , whose flame illumes The darkness 26.
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Common terms and phrases
Alloway Kirk auld auld lang syne beneath bloom Bonnie Doon breast breath bright brow BURNS's charm Coila daisy dear dream e'en earth Ellisland eyes fame fancy feel FITZ-GREENE HALLECK flame flower frae genius glen glory glow grief hail hame harp hath heart heaven honour hour Immortal BURNS king land light Love's lowly lyre MEMORY OF BURNS minstrel mirth mourn Muse nae bard Nae bard ava native Nature's ne'er Nith River o'er peasant plough ploughman ploughshare poet Poet's praise pride Rantin rhymin Robert Burns ROBIN that's awa ROBIN's awa round rustic sang scorn Scot Scotia's Scotland Scotland's Scots wha hae Scottish shade sing smile soil song soothe sorrow soul strains stream sung sweet sweetest tears thee there's nae bard thine thou thought thrill throng toil tongue Twas wee drappie o't Where'er wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wings youth
Popular passages
Page 42 - Through busiest street and loneliest glen Are felt the flashes of his pen ; He rules 'mid winter snows, and when Bees fill their hives ; Deep in the general heart of men His power survives.
Page 42 - But why to Him confine the prayer, When kindred thoughts and yearnings bear On the frail heart the purest share With all that live ? — The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive 1 IV TO THE SONS OF BURNS AFTER VISITING THE GRAVE OF THEI FATHER 1803.
Page 39 - God scatters love on every side Freely among his children all, And always hearts are lying open wide, Wherein some grains may fall. There is no wind but soweth seeds Of a more true and open life, Which burst, unlocked for, into highsouled deeds, With wayside beauty rife.
Page 7 - Doon's low trees, And pastoral Nith, and wooded Ayr, And round thy sepulchres, Dumfries ! The poet's tomb is there.
Page 4 - And his that music, to whose tone The common pulse of man keeps time, In cot or castle's mirth or moan, In cold or sunny clime. And who hath heard his song, nor knelt Before its spell with willing knee, And listened, and believed, and felt The poet's mastery O'er the mind's sea, in calm and storm, O'er the heart's sunshine and its showers, O'er Passion's moments, bright and warm, O'er reason's dark, cold hours; On fields where brave men "die or do," In halls where rings the banquet's mirth, Where...
Page 3 - Yet read the names that know not death ; Few nobler ones than Burns are there; And few have won a greener wreath Than that which binds his hair.
Page 34 - I saw through all familiar things The romance underlying; The joys and griefs that plume the wings Of Fancy skyward flying.
Page 36 - ... the sweet refrain Of pure and healthful feeling, It died upon the eye and ear, No inward answer gaining; No heart had I to see or hear The discord and the staining. Let those who never erred forget His worth, in vain bewailings; 90 Sweet Soul of Song!
Page 40 - Whose fragrance fills the earth. Within the hearts of all men lie These promises of wider bliss, Which blossom into hopes that cannot die, In sunny hours like this. All that hath been majestical In life or death, since time began, Is native in the simple heart of all, The angel heart of man. And thus, among the untaught poor, Great deeds and feelings find a home, That cast in shadow all the golden lore Of classic Greece and Rome.
Page 33 - The sky with sun and clouds at play, And flowers with breezes blowing. I hear the blackbird in the corn, The locust in the haying ; And, like the fabled hunter's horn, Old tunes my heart is playing. How oft that day, with fond delay, I sought the maple's shadow, And sang with Burns the hours away, Forgetful of the meadow...