"bield" poems
ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, 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 past my pow’r,
Thou bonie gem.
Alas! it’s no thy neebor sweet,
The bonie lark, companion meet,
Bending thee ‘mang the dewy weet,
Wi’ spreckled breast!
When upward-springing, blithe, to greet
The purpling east.
Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
Amid the storm,
Scarce reared above the parent-earth
Thy tender form.
The flaunting flow’rs our gardens yield,
High shelt’ring woods and wa’s maun shield;
But thou, beneath the random bield
O’ clod or stane,
Adorns the histie stibble-field,
Unseen, alane.
There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawy ***** sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise;
But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!
Such is the fate of artless Maid,
Sweet flow’ret of the rural shade!
By love’s simplicity betrayed,
And guileless trust,
Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid
Low i’ the dust.
Such is the fate of simple Bard,
On Life’s rough ocean luckless starred!
Unskilful he to note the card
Of prudent lore,
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
And whelm him o’er!
Such fate to suffering worth is giv’n,
Who long with wants and woes has striv’n,
By human pride or cunning driv’n
To mis’ry’s brink,
Till wrenched of ev’ry stay but Heav’n,
He, ruined, sink!
Ev’n thou who mourn’st the Daisy’s fate,
That fate is thine -no distant date;
Stern Ruin’s ploughshare drives, elate,
Full on thy bloom,
Till crushed beneath the furrow’s weight,
Shall be thy doom!
4.3k
Oh wert thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,
I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee;
Or did misfortune’s bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my *****
To share it a’, to share it a’.
Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
The desart were a paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there.
Or were I monarch o’ the globe,
Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign,
The brightest jewel in my crown
*** be my queen, *** be my queen.
2.3k
The summer breezed in Kraków field,
The fresh air that lingers in my hair
Watching the nuthatches safely arrived in their bield,
While we are holding our hands sitting on the chair.
At night, we were stargazing
You said, "what a starry night",
Like van Gogh's painting is so amazing
That I light up your world without your sight.
Then, You smiled back at me like how Mona Lisa smiled,
It gives me an impression
And that night my world become wild
I knew that You are my dedication and inspiration.
I need a love that grows
That your sweet and tenderness in my veins flows.
Last time, I made pączki for your birthday,
You're so vivacious
Oh dear, a week is not enough to see you everyday
Your love is contagious
We went to the beach for a night,
That day, You and I collide
You will be forever my knight
Please stay by my side.
Fifth of November, you dressed up like van Gogh,
I stared at you like how Frida kahlo fierce,
Honey, I want you to stay by my side everywhere I go.
I love for a thousand years,
I can't stop thinking 'bout your face,
You can never be replaced.
Our relationship has different strokes,
As I painted our love story in Tatra mountain,
Here, under the oaks,
Dear, No one could ever erase you in my memory nor stain,
Were at the terraces, spending my christmas with you,
The smell of potato pancakes are so nostalgic,
And also the spices that is in the barbecue,
Spending holiday with you is so romantic,
Before the year ends,
We waited to power up the fireworks,
moja miłość, we are more than just friends,
And that's how our love works.
How lovely and amazing,
Now, I'm just reminiscing.
Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 2:25 AM UTC
Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
O WERT thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,
I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee;
Or did Misfortune’s bitter storms 5
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my *****
To share it a’, to share it a’.
Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, 10
The desert were a Paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there;
Or were I Monarch o’ the globe,
Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign,
The brightest jewel in my Crown 15
Wad be my Queen, *** be my Queen.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 1:01 AM UTC
Here is the vond vedette,
Here are the congeries scopulous at the alluvion combe - a serow discovers a yawn
Within its palm. Electrical storms redd over this mountain's peaks its verbs, spate it's cwms. Lichen flux ecesis, caught in the current towards veridity.
A verderer hazed by chessile guillotines, naves hain- dwindling grike of corrasion
Indomite lithoids behooving one's obstacle of self, set by sanguine puerile innocent knosps. While the eyes howk that merriment of skin-cleft sensations into the reweaved aureoles, those many colored plumes of split flowers, which open into brightly singing dactyls of these grieving bield and obscene vocations. To the gulch of one thousand bells, and only the passive nestling interstices to anoint them
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 5:46 PM UTC