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Robert Burns (1759-1796)

To a Mouse
On Turning Up Her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785


              1Wee, sleeket, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
              2Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie!
              3Thou need na start awa sae hasty
              4      Wi' bickerin brattle!
              5I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee
              6      Wi' murd'ring pattle!

              7I'm truly sorry man's dominion
              8Has broken Nature's social union,
              9An' justifies that ill opinion
            10      Which makes thee startle
            11At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
            12      An' fellow-mortal!

            13I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve:
            14What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
            15A daimen icker in a thrave
            16      'S a sma' request;
            17I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
            18      An' never miss 't!

            19Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
            20Its silly wa's the win's are strewin!
            21An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
            22      O' foggage green!
            23An' bleak December's winds ensuin
            24      Baith snell an' keen!

            25Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast,
            26An' weary winter comin fast,
            27An' cozie here beneath the blast
            28      Thou thought to dwell,
            29Till crash! the cruel coulter past
            30      Out thro' thy cell.

            31That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble
            32Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
            33Now thou's turn'd out for a' thy trouble,
            34      But house or hald,
            35To thole the winter's sleety dribble
            36      An' cranreuch cauld!

            37But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane
            38In proving foresight may be vain:
            39The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
            40      Gang aft agley,
            41An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
            42      For promis'd joy.

            43Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
            44The present only toucheth thee:
            45But, och! I backward cast my e'e
            46      On prospects drear!
            47An' forward, tho' I canna see,
            48      I guess an' fear!

Notes

1] Burns's brother Gilbert is responsible for the story that the poem was composed while the poet was ploughing, after he had turned up a mouse's nest and had saved the mouse from the spade of the boy who was holding the horses.
sleekit: sleek.

4] bickerin brattle: hurrying scamper.

5] laith: loth.

6] pattle: a small long-handled spade for removing clay from the ploughshare.

13] whyles: sometimes.

14] mawn: must.

15] daimen: occasional.
icker: ear of corn.
a thrave: twenty-four sheaves.

17] lave: rest.

20] silly: feeble.

21] big: build.

22] foggage: coarse grass.

24] snell: piercing.

34] But: without.
house or hald: house or habitation; cf. Address to the Deil, 104.

35] thole: endure.

36] cranreuch: hoar-frost.

37] no thy lane: not alone.

40] a-gley: amiss.


Online text copyright © 2009, Ian Lancashire (the Department of English) and the University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.

Original text: Robert Burns, Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect (Kilmarnock, 1786). PR 4300 1786a K5a SMR. (Edinburgh, 1797). B-10 0051 Fisher Rare Book Library (Toronto).
First publication date: 1786
RPO poem editor: G. G. Falle
RP edition: 3RP 2.311.
Recent editing: 4:2002/3/19

Composition date: 1785
Rhyme: aaabab


Other poems by Robert Burns