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...THE GARDEN BY MOONLIGHT by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EUGENIA TODD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LITTLE BLACK BOY, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE LAST MAN by THOMAS CAMPBELL |