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ROBERT BURNS

By James Thomson

He felt scant need
   Of church or creed,
He took small share
   In saintly prayer,
His eyes found food for his love;
He could pity poor devils condemned to hell,
But sadly neglected endeavours to dwell
   With the angels in luck above:
To save one's precious peculiar soul
He never could understand is the whole
   Of a mortal's business in life,
While all about him his human kin
With loving and hating and virtue and sin
   Reel overmatched in the strife.
“The heavens for the heavens,
   and the earth for the earth!
I am a Man—I'll be true to my birth—
   Man in my joys, in my pains.”
So fearless, stalwart, erect and free,
He gave to his fellows right royally
   His strength, his heart, his brains;
For proud and fiery and swift and bold—
Wine of life from heart of gold,
The blood of his heathen manhood rolled
   Full-billowed through his veins.

1859

This poem was transcribed and proofread by George Jelliss of Leicester, England, U.K.

This poem was added to this site March 16, 2006.
The page last changed February 9, 2017 8:51 PM .

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