To a Mouse by Robert Burns modern English translation by Michael R. Burch. Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie, Sleek, tiny, timorous, cowering beast. Jump to The poem - "To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest With the Plough, November, " is a Scots-language poem written by Robert Burns in , and was included in the Kilmarnock volume. According to legend, Burns was ploughing in the fields and accidentally destroyed a mouse's nest, which it needed to survive the winter. [The lines "To a Mouse" seem by report to have been composed while Burns was actually plowing. Burns, who treated his servants with the familiarity of fellow-labourers, soon afterward read the poem to Blane." Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie!


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He is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland, and is celebrated worldwide.

Burns’ To A Mouse: The poem we love but few understand

He is the best known of the poets who have written in to a mouse poem Scots language, although much of his writing is also in English and a 'light' Scots dialect, accessible to an audience beyond Scotland. He wrote that the best laid plans of mice and men go awry, and financially, that is where a payday loan can come in.

Things change, and not being able to be flexible can be a hindrance. It behooves a person to have a Plan B, willing to change with circumstances.

Poems That Every Child Should Know/To a Mouse - Wikisource, the free online library

Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murd'ring pattle!


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! I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; What then?

A to a mouse poem icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request; I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, An' never miss't! Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!

It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green!

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An' bleak December's winds ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! 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!

To a Mouse by Robert Burns | Poetry Foundation

Thy wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To a mouse poem thole the winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch cauld!


But, Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain; The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For to a mouse poem joy! Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me The present only toucheth thee: I backward cast my e'e.

The speaker is by all accounts repentant, as he spends the majority of the poem apologizing to the mouse and thinking about its inconveniences.

Broadly, the poem is about enjoying the present moments, and not worrying about future ones.


The speaker thinks that the mouse has an advantage over him because as opposed to preparing for the future, the mouse lives for the present.

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