Reply to thread

Message

<blockquote data-quote="The New Holliday" data-source="post: 972136" data-attributes="member: 3122">A fav of mine fer its troof..&nbsp; One of [USER=1124]@Blandscape[/USER] 's own.The foundation of so many a modern observation.. How one feels for the lil beastie.<h3>To a Mouse</h3>By <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/robert-burns" target="_blank">Robert Burns</a>On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785.Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!Thou need na start awa sae hasty,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Wi’ bickerin brattle!I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Wi’ murd’ring pattle!I’m truly sorry Man’s dominionHas broken Nature’s social union,An’ justifies that ill opinion,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Which makes thee startle,At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; An’ fellow-mortal!I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!A daimen-icker in a thrave&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ’S a sma’ request:I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; An’ never miss ’t!Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; O’ foggage green!An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Baith snell an’ keen!Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,An’ weary Winter comin fast,An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Thou thought to dwell,Till crash! the cruel coulter past&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Out thro’ thy cell.That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibbleHas cost thee monie a weary nibble!Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; But house or hald,To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; An’ cranreuch cauld!But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,In proving foresight may be vain:The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Gang aft agley,An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 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,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; On prospects drear!An’ forward tho’ I canna see,&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; I guess an’ fear!</blockquote>

[QUOTE="The New Holliday, post: 972136, member: 3122"] A fav of mine fer its troof [COLOR=rgb(0, 0, 0)]..[/COLOR] One of [USER=1124]@Blandscape[/USER] 's own. The foundation of so many a modern observation. [COLOR=rgb(0, 0, 0)].[/COLOR] How one feels for the lil beastie. [HEADING=2]To a Mouse[/HEADING] By [URL='https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/robert-burns']Robert Burns[/URL] On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785. Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickerin brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee Wi’ murd’ring pattle! 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, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave ’S a sma’ request: I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave, An’ never miss ’t! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin! An’ naething, now, to big a new ane, O’ foggage green! An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin, Baith snell an’ keen! 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 Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble, An’ cranreuch cauld! But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men Gang aft agley, An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain, 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! [/QUOTE]

Name

Verification