Robert Burns
"Auld Lang Syne," a song lyric composed by Robert Burns, stands as one of his most notable works and has carried his name across generations of singers and readers worldwide. Burns worked in both the English and Scots languages, and the piece reflects his practice across the genres of ballad and narrative poetry with which he engaged throughout his career. It remains the work most immediately connected to his name in popular memory.
Burns was born on 25 January 1759 in Alloway, a citizen of the Kingdom of Great Britain. He worked across several occupations simultaneously: poet, writer, songwriter, librettist, musicologist, and farmer. He composed in both English and Scots, and his output is associated with the Romanticism movement. His work in the genres of narrative poetry and the ballad runs throughout his body of writing.
Among his other notable works are the narrative poem "Tam o' Shanter," the lyric "To a Mouse," the song "Scots Wha Hae," the lyric "Ae Fond Kiss, and Then We Sever," the poem "Halloween," "The Battle of Sherramuir," and "Is There for Honest Poverty." These pieces demonstrate the range of forms Burns employed, from the ballad to the extended narrative poem, and show his sustained engagement with writing in both Scots and English across different subjects and occasions.
Burns died on 21 July 1796 in Dumfries, at the age of thirty-seven. Among the works he produced in the later period of his life, "Is There for Honest Poverty" and "Ae Fond Kiss, and Then We Sever" stand as concrete examples of his continued activity as a poet and songwriter up to the final years before his death in Dumfries.
Quotes by Robert Burns
Robert Burns's insights on:

We two have paddled in the stream, / from morning sun till dine; / But seas between us broad have roared / since days of long ago.

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, / The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth; / Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, / The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Oh, my Luve's like a red, red rose / That's newly sprung in June: / O, my Luve's like the melodie / That's sweetly played in tune.

Auld nature swears, the lovely dears / Her noblest work she classes, O; / Her prentice han' she tried on man, / An’ then she made the lasses, O.

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, / The birthplace of valor, the country of worth! / Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, / The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

I'll count my health my greatest wealth, / Sae lang as I'll enjoy it; / I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want, / As lang's I get employment.

But to see her was to love her; Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met—or never parted— We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Oh, my Luve's like a red red rose that's newly sprung in June: O, my Luve's like the melodie that's sweetly play'd in tune.

