poet

My Highland Lassie

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Nae gentle dames, tho’ e’er sae fair,
Shall ever be my muse’s care;
Their titles a’ are empty show;
Gie me my Highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen sae bushy, O,
Aboon the plain sae rushy, O,
I sit me down wi’ right good will,
To sing my Highland Lassie, O.

Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine,
Yon palace and yon gardens fine!
The world then the love should know
I bear my Highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen…

But fickle fortune frowns on me,
And I maun cross the raging sea;
But while my crimson currents flow
I’ll love my highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen…

Altho’ thro’ foreign climes I range,
I know her heart will never change,
For her bosom burns with honor’s glow,
My faithful highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen…

For her I’ll dare the billows’ roar,
For her I’ll trace a distant shore,
That Indian wealth may lustre throw
Around my Highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen…

She has my heart, she has my hand,
By sacred troth and honor’s band!
Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,
I’m thine, my highland Lassie, O.
Farewell the glen sae bushy, O!
Farewell the plain sae rushy, O!
To other lands I now must go,
To sing my Highland Lassie, O!

 

– Robert Burns

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My Heart’s In The Highlands

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Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

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.

Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

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.

  – Robert Burns

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Highland Mary

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Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o’ Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There Simmer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry:
For there I took the last Fareweel
O’ my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom’d the gay, green birk,
How rich the hawthorn’s blossom;
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasp’d her to my bosom!
The golden Hours, on angel wings,
Flew o’er me and my Dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi’ mony a vow, and lock’d embrace,
Our parting was fu’ tender;
And pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder:
But Oh, fell Death’s untimely frost,
That nipt my Flower sae early!
Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly!
And clos’d for ay, the sparkling glance,
That dwalt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust,
That heart that lo’ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom’s core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

 

– Robert Burns

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21st July – On This Day In History

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Born:

1899 Ernest Hemingway (Nobel prize winning author)

eh

 

Died:

1796 Robert Burns (Scottish poet)

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On This Day:

1884 First Test Cricket match played at Lords

lc

 

Have a good Friday, 21st July

 

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A Fiddler In The North

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Amang the trees, where humming bees,
At buds and flowers were hinging, O,
Auld Caledon drew out her drone,
And to her pipe was singing, O:
‘Twas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspeys, and Reels,
She dirl’d them aff fu’ clearly, O:
When there cam’ a yell o’ foreign squeels,
That dang her tapsalteerie, O.

Their capon craws an’ queer “ha, ha’s,”
They made our lugs grow eerie, O;
The hungry bike did scrape and fyke,
Till we were wae and weary, O:
But a royal ghaist, wha ance was cas’d,
A prisoner, aughteen year awa’,
He fir’d a Fiddler in the North,
That dang them tapsalteerie, O.

 

– Robert Burns

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A Friend In Nature

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I’ve found a friend in nature
although nature could turn on me
if i’m out and about in a storm
and its lightning strikes me
if a tidal wave sweeps me far out to sea
or a poisonous snake takes a bite of me
if a tornado twirls me high into the sky
yes, the irony is that nature which
i find so enchanting
could one day cause my demise

 

– Faith Elizabeth Brigham

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Beauty In Nature

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Theres a poem in every flower,
a sonnet in every tree,
a tale in every lifetime
its just for you to see…

theres a lyric in every brook
as it rushes over rocks,
theres an ode in every nuance,
as loves wonder unlocks,

theres rhythm in every sound,
every beating of a heart,
theres poetry in every union
and every couple who are apart

and just as there is wonder
in every new life created
there is sadness and regret,
for the unsaid and unfeted

just listen for the music
that your ears cannot hear,
just strain yourself for the melody
thats so far and yet so near

the wonder of the creator,
the magic of the divine
is there to feel, for all of us,
to soon be yours and mine

 

– Arti Chopra

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