Explore "Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
January
While winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw, / An' bar the doors wi' driving snaw, / An' hing us owre the ingle, / I set me down to pass the time, / An' spin a verse or twa o' rhyme, / In hamely, westlin jingle. / While frosty winds blaw in the drift, / Ben to the chimla lug, / I grudge a wee the great-folk's gift, / That live sae bien an' snug: / I tent less, and want less / Their roomy fire-side; / But hanker, and canker, / To see their cursed pride.