ClassicsClassics
Classics

To a Mouse

Robert Burns

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... [+]


Classics

To a Mountain Daisy

Robert Burns

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... [+]


Classics

A Red, Red Rose

Robert Burns

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... [+]


Classics

The Sick Rose

William Blake

O Rose thou art sick:

The invisible worm,

That flies in the night

In the howling storm,


Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy;

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.


Classics

The Tyger

William Blake

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what... [+]


Classics

The Lamb

William Blake

Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life and bid thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, wooly, bright;
Gave... [+]