Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted rest, No more of rest, but now thy dying bed! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! The speaker then gets all depressed and feels sorry for the mouse that he almost killed. I would be loath to run and chase you, With a murderous spade! I'm truly sorry Man's dominion I'm truly sorry Man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, and justifies that bad opinion Which makes thee startle, which makes you startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, when I'm your poor, earth-born companion An' fellow-mortal! If I were a mouse And could run around the house There are plenty of things I'd like to do Like run under chairs And try to climb the stairs And scare my mum a little too I could fit in the cracks That lead behind the bath And see what insects were down there I could go high and low Go where only mouses go And wander around without a care I could eat all the cheese Without ever saying please And watch what other people do From my place down there And with my agile mouse-like flair I could scamper up, around and through But then there's the cat Who would think I was a rat And I wouldn't want to get caught in his teeth So I'd make myself small Wrapped up in a tiny ball And roll myself under his feet If I were a mouse I would never leave the house There'd be lots of new things to do and see But I wouldn't go outside No, especially not at night So I think a person's what I'll be If I were a mouse And could run around the house There are plenty of things I'd like to do Like run under chairs And try to climb the stairs And scare my mum a little too I could fit in the cracks That lead behind the bath And see what insects were down there I could go high and low Go where only mouses go And wander around without a care I could eat all the cheese Without ever saying please And watch what other people do From my place down there And with my agile mouse-like flair I could scamper up, around and through But then there's the cat Who would think I was a rat And I wouldn't want to get caught in his teeth So I'd make myself small Wrapped up in a tiny ball And roll myself under his feet If I were a mouse I would never leave the house There'd be lots of new things to do and see But I wouldn't go outside No, especially not at night So I think a person's what I'll be ©2002 Gareth Lancaster. Register with our Shopping Club for further offers and unique member offers. A cultural icon in Scotland and among the Scottish Diaspora around the world, celebration of his life and work became almost a national charismatic cult during the 19th and 20th centuries, and his influence has long been strong on Scottish literature. The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray. That's poetry in of itself. Robert Burns is also known for resurrecting the Scottish vernacular and rescuing hundreds of Scottish folk songs through his wonderful poetry.
The mouse lives only in the present. I backward cast my eye On prospects turned to sadness! Additionally, the reader knows nothing about reading poetry. Related pages: The following are links to other translations by Michael R. But hear me, sir, deil as ye are, Look something to your credit; A coof like him wad stain your name, If it were kent ye did it. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; There oft, as mild Ev'ning sweeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow, From pomp and pleasure torn! She draigl't a'her petticoatie, She's draggin' all her petticoats Comin thro the rye! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! There is an old song and tune which has often thrilled through my soul: I shall give you the verses on the other sheet. Most of Burns' poems were written in Scots. The poem shows that generally preparing is not always the best alternative. He says that the mouse might steal little bits of food from human farms, but who cares? Today, Burns is a national hero and a cultural icon in Scotland and among the global Scottish Diaspora. Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner Go somewhere else to seek your dinner On some poor body.
Still thou are blest, compared wi' me! Your pity I will not implore, For pity ye hae nane; Justice, alas! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! Holy Willie was a small farmer, leading elder to Auld, a name well known to all lovers of Burns; austere in speech, scrupulous in all outward observances, and, what is known by the name of a 'professing Christian. But hey, says the speaker—that's life. I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; What then? An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! He then speaks of how the mouse thought to ride out the winter in comfort but then he came along and destroyed the house. He is also well known for the over three hundred songs he wrote which celebrate love, friendship, work, and drink with often hilarious and tender sympathy. The silly walls not silly literally, but weak are now being strewn around by the winds.
The present only touches you: But oh! In Scottish accent, daimen icker stands for an ear of corn, and a thrave stands for 24 ears of corn. And unlike the 'timorous beastie' in the newly turned over furrow, he was conscious of past sorrow and 'prospects drear'. Ye suit the joyless tenor of my soul. An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! And lash your lovely braids abroad! The mouse got scared because the speaker was plowing a field and uprooted the mouse Personal Response: I thought this poem was hard to understand. I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; What then? The mouse is free from these troubles.
Still, he says the mouse has got it better, as it lives only in the present and is not troubled by events of the past nor is it bothered by the fear of future. Poor beast, you must live! I found these lines copied by the poet into a volume which he presented to Dr. He is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland, and is celebrated worldwide. The other character is the mouse who doesn't talk but is being talk to, his house also got ran over by a plow and the man assumes that now the mouse will hate him. I love poems revolving I hear that Burn's brother claimed Burns wrote this poem while in the field, holding the plow, just after the plow destroyed the mouse nest.
The whole wording of the poem is in Scottish accent making it difficult for non-Scottish to grasp the meaning of certain words easily. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him While the star of hope she leaves him? He is the best known of the poets who have written in the Scots language. Robert Burns: Modern English Translations and Original Poems, Songs, Lyrics, Quotes, Epigrams, Bio, Scots Dialect Robert Burns: Modern English Translations and Original Poems, Songs, Quotes, Epigrams and Bio Robert Burns is generally considered to be Scotland's greatest poet, lyricist and songwriter. He says he does not doubt that the mouse steals food; but what of it, he says, after all, it too must live. Or labour hard the panegyric close, With all the venal soul of dedicating prose? I thank Thee, Author of this opening day! But then the speaker starts thinking more about it—the mouse is, after all, pretty justified in being freaked out.
The speaker means to say that the mouse house was like that, bare and simple. The final tone of the poem is self pity when the speaker says of how he has the past and future too in his thoughts. You should really remove the audio. An odd ear from twenty four sheaves of corn is a small request: I'll get a blessing with the rest, And never miss it! Have you ever wondered just exactly what you're singing? At the age of fifteen, he fell in love and shortly thereafter he wrote his first poem. That heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! This tradition, along with singing Auld Lang Syne each New Year's Eve, has been in place for well over the 200 years since his death. And nothing now, from which to build a new one Of foliage green! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear! That tiny heap of leaves and stubble grain stalks Has cost you many a weary nibble! Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee! In the last verse, the poem itself tells us that the mouse cannot experience anything more than the current moment.
I backward cast my e'e, But, ouch! Green grow the rashes, O! The speaker describes himself as poor, earth-born companion and mortal. As a young man, Burns pursued both love and poetry with uncommon zeal. But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy. Where're you going, you crawling hair-fly? 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! Or why has man the will and power To make his fellow mourn? Or through the mining outlet bocked, Down headlong hurl. I'm truly sorry man's dominion, Has broken nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal! He took a crystal goblet containing wine-and-water for moistening his lips, wrote these words upon it with a diamond, and presented it to her. To Burns, Scotland was the land of promise, the west of Scotland his paradise; and the land of dread, Jamaica! The present only toucheth thee: But Och! The speaker apologizes on behalf of all humankind.
Enjambment: Lines of verse continue to the next line in the poem, often seen in cases of the 3rd and 5th lines of the poem. The poet, on observing the hare come bleeding past him, 'was in great wrath,' said Thomson, 'and cursed me, and said little hindered him from throwing me into the Nith; and he was able enough to do it, though I was both young and strong. I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! He is regarded as a pioneer of the Romantic movement and after his death became a Robert Burns also known as Robin was a Scottish poet and a lyricist. I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; What then? An' bleak December's winds ensuin, an' keen! The best plans made by man and mouse often go astray and leaves us with, in place of the promised joy, nothing but grief and pain. I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? This poem is old, and we do not speak the English that they did long ago.