Robert Burns - Poetry

Next up is famous Scottish poet, Robert Burns.  This one is 'To a Mouse'.


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!

I'm not a huge fan of reading in dialect.  I'll say that in some parts of this works, in others it hinders.  The dialect certainly does add though, doesn't it.  Try and mentally read this straight.  You can't!
I've often heard the phrase 'best laid plans of mice and men, often go astray'.  I had no idea that it originated with Robert Burns.  In fact, one thing that this side project has made clear is that great poems often have at least one phrase that sticks out and lives a life outside of the poem itself.  (May have to blog on that.)
Back in high school we sang a song based on a different Burns poem, 'O My Luve's Like a Red, Red Rose'.  I prefer that poem, though that may simply be based on familiarty.  I don't think so.  There is a striking simplicty to 'Red, Red Rose' that makes it a bit heartbreaking.  At least it hits me more in the heart than this ode to a mouse.
The poetry book missed on this poet.