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 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... [+]