O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And
... [+]
On Turning up in Her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785
Little, artful, cowering, timid beast,
Oh, what a panic is in your heart!
You need not start away so hasty
With bickering prattle!
I
... [+]
On Turning One Down with the Plow, in April, 1786
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem:
To spare thee now is
... [+]