Happy Birthday, Rabbie!

Burns Night!

Yes, today is Robert Burns' birthday. He was born in Alloway, Scotland, in 1759, and started writing poetry for the oldest reason: to get girls. Now he's Scotland's national poet. Everyone sings Auld Lang Syne at New Year, and we all know at least part of To a Mouse and maybe To a Louse, too... Last year I gave you "Is there for honest Poverty" (also known as "A Man's a Man For A' That"). This year, something less well known:


Musing on the roaring ocean,
Which divides my love and me;
Wearying heav'n in warm devotion,
For his weal where'er he be.

Hope and Fear's alternate billow
Yielding late to Nature's law,
Whispering spirits round my pillow,
Talk of him that's far awa.

Ye whom sorrow never wounded,
Ye who never shed a tear,
Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded,
Gaudy day to you is dear.

Gentle night, do thou befriend me,
Downy sleep, the curtain draw;
Spirits kind, again attend me,
Talk of him that's far awa!

(You can find them all at Robert Burns.Org