Reliques of Robert Burns: Consisting Chiefly of Original Letters, Poems, and Critical Observations on Scottish Songs
Publisher description: In a book that is at once deeply personal and intellectually savvy, Homegrown Democrat is a celebration of liberalism as the "politics of kindness." In his inimitable style, Keillor draws on a lifetime of experience amongst the hardworking, God- fearing people of the Midwest and pays homage to the common code of civic necessities that arose from the left: Protect the social compact. Defend the powerless. Maintain government as a necessary force for good. As Keillor tells it, these are articles of faith that are being attacked by hard-ass Republican tax cutters who believe that human misery is a Dickensian fiction. In a blend of nostalgic reminiscence, humorous meditation, and articulate ire, Keillor asserts the values of his boyhood#x14;the values of Lake Wobegon#x14; that do not square with the ugly narcissistic agenda at work in the country today. A thoughtful, wonderfully written book, Homegrown Democrat is Keillor#x19;s love letter to liberalism, the older generation, John F. Kennedy, the University of Minnesota, and the yellow-dog Democrat city of St. Paul that is sure to amuse and inspire Americans just when they need it most.
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Ae fond kiss Allan Water amang Auld Ayrshire ballad banks bard beautiful Blacklock bonie lass bosom brother Burns Burns's called character charms compliments composed composition copy Currie's dear Sir Dugald Stewart Dumfries e'en Edinburgh Ellisland Farewel feelings frae Gavin Hamilton give gude Gypsie Laddie hand happy heart Highland Highland Laddie honest honor humble John kind Laddie lady lassie letter Lord mair Mauchline maun ment mind misfortune Miss morning Mosgiel muse ne'er never night บ บ O'er the moor old song pleasure poem poet poetic poor Roslin Castle Scotland Scots Scots Musical Museum Scottish shew sing soul sparklin stanza sweet tell thee There's thing thou thought thro tion tune verses weel WILLIAM BURNS wish write young
Page 429 - Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met, or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Page 324 - As I am what the men of the world, if they knew such a man, would call a whimsical mortal, I have various sources of pleasure and enjoyment, which are, in a manner, peculiar to myself, or some here and there such other out-of-the-way person. Such is the peculiar pleasure I take in the season of winter, more than the rest of the year. This, 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...
Page 337 - THOU unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear ! In whose dread presence, ere an hour, Perhaps I must appear! If I have wander'd in those paths Of life I ought to shun ; • As something, loudly, in my breast, Remonstrates I have done; Thou know'st that thou hast formed me With passions wild and strong; And list'ning to their witching voice Has often led me wrong.
Page 18 - Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate. Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon To see the woodbine twine, And ilka bird sang o' its love; And sae did I o
Page 96 - It is the moon, I ken her horn, That's blinkin in the lift sae hie; She shines sae bright to wyle us hame, But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee! Wha first shall rise to gang awa, A cuckold, coward loun is he! Wha first beside his chair shall fa', He is the King amang us three!
Page 35 - Her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, That one might almost say her body thought.
Page 345 - And wi' the lave ilk merry morn Could rank my rig and lass, Still shearing, and clearing The tither stocked raw, Wi' claivers, an' haivers, Wearing the day awa : Ev'n then a wish, (I mind its power,) A wish that to my latest hour Shall strongly heave my breast ; That I for poor auld Scotland's sake, Some usefu' plan, or beuk could make, Or sing a sang at least.
Page 276 - My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer, A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe — My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go!
Page 142 - I have three sons, who, I see already, have brought into the world souls ill qualified to inhabit the bodies of slaves. Can I look tamely on, and see any machination to wrest from them the birthright of my boys — the little independent Britons, in whose veins runs my own blood? No! I will not ! should my heart's blood stream around my attempt to defend it ! Does any man tell me...