Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. III. The Eighteenth Century: Addison to Blake

Robert Burns (1759–1796)

To a Mouse, on Turning Her up in Her Nest, with the Plough

WEE, sleekit, cowrin, 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 blessing wi’ the lave,

And never miss ’t!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!

Its silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!

An’ naething, now, to big a new one,

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 mony 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 and pain,

For promised joy.

Still thou art blest, compared 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!