black
grey
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brown
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Oh my luve’s like a red, red rose, That’s newly sprung in June; Oh my luve’s like the melodie That’s sweetly played in tune.

Robert Burns

The golden hours on angel wings Flew o’er me and my dearie, For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary.
ROBERT BURNS

Gold Life Light Myself Wings
Now’s the day and now’s the hour.
ROBERT BURNS

End One Liner Present Time
The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
ROBERT BURNS

Best Man Planning Wasted
Anticipation forward points the view.
ROBERT BURNS

One Liner Point View
Some rhyme a neebor’s name to lash; Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu’ cash; Some rhyme to court the countra clash, An’ raise a din; For me, an aim I never fash; I rhyme for fun.
ROBERT BURNS

Fun Money Myself Name Rhyme Thinking
But facts are chiels that winna ding, An’ downa be disputed.
ROBERT BURNS

Fact Fight Life
Dare to be honest and fear no labor. … Opera is where a man gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings.
ROBERT BURNS

Dare Death Fear Himself Honesty Man Music Sing
A eunuch is a man who has had his work cut out for him.
ROBERT BURNS

Himself Man Work
Painters and poets have liberty to lie.
ROBERT BURNS

Liberty Lying Paint Poet
My dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heav’n is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
ROBERT BURNS

Health Heaven Myself Peace Warm
A mind that is conscious of its integrity scorns to say more than it means to perform.
ROBERT BURNS

Integrity Meaning Mindset Performance
She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonny wee thing, This sweet wee wife o’ mine.
ROBERT BURNS

Appearance Beautiful Herself Love Myself Wife
Critics! Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame.
ROBERT BURNS

Critics Fame Path Struggle
God knows, I’m no the thing I should be, Nor am I even the thing I could be.
ROBERT BURNS

Be Yourself God Myself Personality
O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent
ROBERT BURNS

Heaven Myself Patriot Warm
The trout in yonder wimpling burn – That glides, a silver dart, – And, safe beneath the shady thorn, – Defies the anglers art.
ROBERT BURNS

Art Burn Silver

Oh my luve’s like a red, red rose, That’s newly sprung in June; Oh my luve’s like the melodie That’s sweetly played in tune.

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Oh my luve’s like a red, red rose, That’s newly sprung in June; Oh my luve’s like the melodie That’s sweetly played in tune.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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