Now Robin lies in his last lair, He'll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair; Cauld poverty, wi' hungry stare, Nae mair shall fear him; Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care, E'er mair come near him. To tell the truth, they seldom fash'd him, Except the moment that they crush'd him; For sune as chance or fate had hush'd 'em Tho' e'er sae short. Then wi' a rhyme or sang he lash'd 'em, And thought it sport. Tho'he was bred to kintra-wark, And counted was baith wight and stark, Yet that was never Robin's mark To mak a man; But tell him, he was learn'd and clark, Ye roos'd him then! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG by ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O'SHAUGHNESSY THE IMMORTALS by ISAAC ROSENBERG MAN FRAIL AND GOD ETERNAL by ISAAC WATTS FIRST CYCLE OF LOVE POEMS: 2 by GEORGE BARKER ACROSS THE PAMPAS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 38 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A TOAST, ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF RODNEY'S VICTORY by ROBERT BURNS |