Explore "A Nicht Wi' Burns" by Ruth Collie on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Oh, Robbie Burns, if I could find a golden phrase that sweetly sings, / a silvern phrase of kingly mind, a magic phrase with fairy wings -- I'd / weave, I'd weave each precious phrase into a song for your delight; / for we who love your tuneful lays are toasting you this very night. / But, after all, why should I seek unusual, unfamiliar words? So / freely does your own heart speak in songs that lilt and trill like / birds. A simple phrase, then, be my choice for all who toast the / Bard to-night: "We drink to that Immortal Voice whose simplest songs / give most delight. " Oh, Robbie Burns, your deathless lyre was strung / by Pity, Love and Truth. Interpreter of Passion's fire, of / Friendship, Loyalty and Youth, to you, the David of your time, the / Bard who gives world-wide delight, I offer up this simple rhyme -- just / as a toast, to you, to-night.