English poem
On Returning a Newspaper
by Robert Burns
Your News and Review, sir. I’ve read through and through, sir, With little admiring or blaming; The Papers are barren Of home-news or foreign, No murders or rapes worth the naming.
Our friends, the Reviewers, Those chippers and hewers, Are judges of mortar and stone, sir; But of meet or unmeet, In a fabric complete, I’ll boldly pronounce they are none, sir;
My goose-quill too rude is To tell all your goodness Bestow’d on your servant, the Poet; Would to God I had one Like a beam of the sun, And then all the world, sir, should know it!
More by Robert Burns
- On Miss Jean Scott.
- On Miss Jessy Lewars.
- On R.A., Esq.
- On Reading In A Newspaper The Death Of John M'Leod, Esq. Brother To A Young Lady, A Particular Friend Of The Author's.
- On Robert Riddel.
- On Scaring Some Water-Fowl
- On Scaring Some Water-Fowl In Loch-Turit.
- On Seeing A Wounded Hare Limp By Me, Which A Fellow Had Just Shot.