An’ forward, tho’ I cannot see, I guess an’ fear! Baith snell an' keen! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! Now thou’s turned out, for a’ thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble, An’ cranreuch cauld! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! To a Mouse - A Poem by Robert Burns (Written by Burns after he had turned over the nest of a tiny field mouse with his plough. Homepage | Future Events | Contact | Sitemap | Poetry and Songs | Our Burns Supper | St. Andrew's Night Alexandria Burns Club History | Membership

Burns was an early advocate against cruelty to animals. Out thro' thy cell. To a Mouse Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! One of the Bard's most celebrated poems was written after he had disturbed a rodent's nest in the field he was ploughing. Burn's regret at breaking 'Nature's social union' echoes Smith's notion that all earthly creatures are bound together through benevolent exchange. O' foggage green! Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!

"To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough" (also known as just "To a Mouse") is a poem written by Robert Burns. Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickerin brattle!

Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim'rous beastie,

It was written in 1785 and is read here by Brian Cox. John Steinbeck's 'Of Mice And of course, one poignant text begat another. 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!

As the description of the terrible fate of the mouse escalates into the sound-attack of ‘sleety dribble,/ An’ cranreuch cauld’ we sense feelings beyond simply worries about the small creature. I'm truly sorry man's dominion, Has broken nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee … To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough 1785 Type: Poem. Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! I guess an' fear!

For promis'd joy! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast, Burns The narrator (a voice which we irresistibly want to call Robert) sees into the mouse’s situation. This is a poem by Robert Burns. Man is equally vulnerable to disaster, and, as a tenant farmer, Burns was particularly aware that the best laid plans may often go awry. On prospects drear! It’s written as an apology to a mouse …

That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, We are running a 'Click & Collect' service and free postal borrowing. An' never miss't! For example, wi is spelled out as N A, instead of pronounced wi as in with.

We must be careful, though, of saying that he writes from the perspective of the mouse.

An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,

the cruel coulter past Out thro’ thy cell. The title of this poem indicates the inspiring event, and Gilbert Burns collaborates that indeed Burns composed the verses on the same day he bereaved the 'tim'rous beastie' of its 'wee-bit housie'.

"To a Mouse" is about a young man who accidentally overturns the soil of a mouse’s nest.. John Steinbeck named his novella Of Mice and Men after a line in the seventh stanza of the poem. I expected a true Scottish rendition instead of some amateurish attempt. Gang aft agley, Introduced by a variety of writers, artists and other guests, the Scottish Poetry Library’s classic poem selections are a reminder of wonderful poems to rediscover. However, it has so long been my favourite poem, I have bored so many people with my enthusiasm for it and it is so ‘visible’ in the lives of those brought up in the Scottish education system that I felt I should choose something unknown, bring to attention a long-neglected work. And yet, the ‘universality’ claimed for the work of both Burns and Shakespeare is perfectly evident. Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle!

I backward cast my e'e, This poem is another illustration of Robert Burn's tolerance to all creatures and his innate humanity.) Like ‘Daffodils or ‘Sonnet 18’, we barely read it anymore, the title is shorthand for what we think it says. An' weary Winter comin fast, I backward cast my e’e, On prospects drear! This poem is another illustration Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Robert Burns Links | Sangs and Clatter | Burns Club News | Guest Book | Robert Burns Resources Please consider upgrading your browser software or enabling style sheets (CSS) if you are able to do so. Since her first horror-stricken days on the stage of Perth City Halls, Ishbel has become a fervent advocate of memorising poems, both for improved understanding and immeasurably improved performance, and at ‘Poetry Schmoetry’ everything is performed by heart. Has broken Nature's social union, Additionally, the reader knows nothing about reading poetry. he could identify.

Since 2006 she has coordinated and compered ‘Poetry Schmoetry’, an occasional, informal event based in Edinburgh’s Bedlam Theatre café, where people come together to recite and listen to poetry. An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, 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! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickering brattle! Dismiss. ‘To a Mouse’, however, highlights their stark differences as poets. The anxieties are not the mouse’s, they are the speaker’s. To a Mouse By Robert Burns. Thou thought to dwell,

I ask you now to read it anew, try reading it aloud, and try to ignore the fact that, like Hamlet, it is ‘full of quotations’. I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? This page has been archived and is no longer updated. was conscious of past sorrow and 'prospects drear'.

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News - Burns in the Press | "Oor Toon" Alexandria | Contributions. poverty. | Burns Loch Lomond Connections | unfeeling burlesque. But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane, The BBC is not responsible for the content of external sites. An' naething, now, to big a new ane, In the last verse, the poem itself tells us that the mouse cannot experience anything more than the current moment. Another farmer might have looked with detachment or even irritation upon the displaced pest. While you will be able to view the content of this page in your current browser, you will not be able to get the full visual experience. Not the nature loving Bard. To thole the Winter's sleety dribble, The SPL has reopened to the public with a reduced service. A daimen-icker in a thrave ‘S a sma’ requet; I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave, An’ never miss’t! I'm truly sorry Man's dominion I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murd'ring pattle!

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