Burns as a 
Lover of Birds. 
(241) THE BIRD WORLD 
Burns as a Lover of Birds® 
Mr. Geo. Raeside, of Irvine, Ayrshire, 
sends us the following verses taken 
from the works of the great Scottish poet. 
As Mr. Raeside says, they not only show 
the poet as a great lover of birds, but 
they also indicate his different moods:— 
A Winter Night. 
Ilk happing bird, wee helpless thing, 
That in the merry months o’ spring, 
Delighted me to hear thee sing, 
What comes o’ thee. 
Whare wilt thou cow’r thy chittering 
wing, 
An’ close thy e’e. 
Elegy on Captain M. Hender.on. 
Mourn ye we songsters o’ the wood; 
Ye Grouse, that crap the heather bud; 
Ye Curlews, calling thro’ a clud; 
Ye whistling Plover; 
And mourn, ye whirring Paitrick brood, 
He’s gone for ever. 
Mourn, sooty Coots and speckled Teals; 
Ye fisher Herons, watching eels; 
Ye Duck and Drake, wi’ airy wheels, 
Circling the lake; 
Ye Bitterns, till the quagmire reels, 
Rais for his sake. 
Mourn, clam’ring Craiks, at close o’ day, 
’mang fields o’ flow’ring clover gay; 
And when yewing your annual way, 
Frae our cauld shore, 
Tell the far warlds, wha lies in clay, 
Whom we deplore. 
Ye Howlets, frae your ivy bow’r, 
In some auld tree, or eldritch tow’r, 
What time the moon, wi’ silent glow’r, 
Sets up her horn. 
Wait thro’ the dreary midnight hour 
Till waukrife morn. 
The Lament of Mary Queen of Scots. 
Now Lav’rocks wake the merry morn, 
Aloft on dewy wing; 
The Merle, in his noontide bow’r, 
Makes woodland echoes ring; 
The Mavis wild wi’ many a note, 
Sings drowsy day to rest; 
In love and freedom they rejoice, 
Wi’ care nor thrall opprest. 
From the Humble Petition of Bruir Water. 
The sober Laverock warbling wild, 
Shall to the skies aspire; 
The Gowdspink, music’s gayest child, 
Shall sweetly join the choir; 
The Blackbird strong, the Lintwhite clear 
The Mavis wild and mellow; 
The Robin pensive autumn cheer, 
In all her locks of yellow. 
A Rose Bud by My Early Walk. 
Within the bush, her covert nest, 
A little Linnet fondly prest, 
The dew sat chilly on her breast, 
Sae early in the morning. 
She soon shall see her tender brood, 
The pride, the pleasure o’ the wood, 
Amang the fresh green leaves bedewed, 
Awake the early morning. 
Bess and Her Spinning Wheel. 
On lofty aiks the Cushats wail, 
And echo cons the doolfu’ tale; 
The Lintwhites in the hazel braes, 
Delighted, rival ither’s lays; 
The Craik among the claves bray. 
The Paitrick whirring o’er the ley, 
The Swallow jinkling round my shiel, 
Amuse me at my spinning wheel. 
