Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing! [Each hopping]

That, in the merry months o' spring, Delighted me to hear thee sing, What comes o' thee?

Where wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, An' close thy e'e? [eye]

_A Winter Night._

A number of his most popular pieces are the expression of this warm-hearted sympathy, a sympathy not confined to suffering but extending to enjoyment of life and sunshine, and at times leading him to the half-humorous, half-tender ascription to horses and sheep of a quasi-human intelligence. Were we to indulge further our conjectures as to what Burns might have done under more favorable circ.u.mstances, it would be easy to argue that he could have ranked with Henryson and La Fontaine as a writer of fables.

TO A MOUSE, ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH, NOVEMBER, 1785

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, [sleek]

O what a panic's in thy breastie!

Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! [hurrying rush]

I wad na be laith to rin an' chase thee [loath]

Wi' murd'ring pattle! [plough-staff]

I'm truly sorry man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!

A daimen icker in a thrave [odd ear, 24 sheaves]

'S a sma' request; [Is]

I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave, [rest]

And never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!

Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'! [frail]

An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green!

An' bleak December's winds ensuin', Baith snell an' keen! [bitter]

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary winter comin' fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble [stubble]

Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!

Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, [Without, holding]

To thole the winter's sleety dribble, [endure]

An' cranreuch cauld! [h.o.a.r-frost]

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, [alone]

In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley, [Go oft askew]

An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain [leave]

For promis'd joy.

Still thou art blest compar'd wi' me!

The present only toucheth thee: But och! I backward cast my e'e On prospects drear!

An' forward tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear!

TO A LOUSE

ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET AT CHURCH

Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin' ferlie! [where are, going, wonder]

Your impudence protects you sairly: I canna say but ye strunt rarely, [swagger]

Owre gauze and lace; Tho' faith! I fear ye dine but sparely On sic a place. [such]

Ye ugly, creepin', blast.i.t wonner, [wonder]

Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner! [saint]

How dare ye set your fit upon her, [foot]

Sae fine a lady!

Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner [Go]

On some poor body.

Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle; [Quick, temples settle]

There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, In shoals and nations; Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle [i.e. comb]

Your thick plantations.

Now haud ye there! ye're out o' sight, [keep]

Below the fatt'rils, snug an' tight; [fal-de-rals]

Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right Till ye've got on it, The very tapmost tow'ring height O' Miss's bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump and gray as onie grozet; [gooseberry]

O for some rank mercurial rozet, [rosin]

Or fell red smeddum! [deadly, dust]

I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o't, Wad dress your droddum! [breech]

I wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flannen toy; [flannel cap]

Or aiblins some bit duddie boy, [perhaps, ragged]

On's wyliecoat; [undervest]

But Miss's fine Lunardi! fie, [balloon bonnet]

How daur ye do't? [dare]

O Jenny, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread! [abroad]

Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie's makin'! [little wretch]

Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread, [Those]

Are notice takin'!

O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us!

It wad frae mony a blunder free us, And foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, And ev'n devotion!

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY

ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH A 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 [must]

Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonnie gem.

Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet, The bonnie lark, companion meet, Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward springing, blythe 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 rear'd above the parent-earth Thy tender form.