Weekly Interlinear Poem




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Robert Jackson

This is the poem for the week of February 16.
A new interlinear poem is available each Monday.


"To A Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest With the Plough"



-Robert Burns


Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie,
tiny, sly, cowering,timorous
O, what panic's in thy breastie!
breastie=breast
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
na start awa sae=not start away so
Wi' bickering brattle!
wi'bickering brattle=with hurrying
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
wad be laith to rin=would be loath to run
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
wi' murd'ring pattle=with murdering spade

I'm truly sorry Man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union
An' justifies that ill opinion
an'=and
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
na=not
whyles=at times
thieve=steal

What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
maun=must
A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request.
daimen-icker in a thrave 's a sma'=occasional ear of corn in 24 sheaves is a small
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
lave=remainder
An' never miss't!

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
housie=house
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin!
silly wa's the win's=homely walls the winds
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
an' naething, now, to big a new ane=and nothing now to build a new one
O' foggage green!
o' foggage=of moss
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
ensuin=ensuing
Baith snell an' keen!
baith snell 'an keen=both bitter and piercing

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast
waste=wasted
An' weary Winter comin fast,
An' cozy here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
coulter past=blade of the plough passed
Out thro' thy cell.
cell=little room

That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
stibble=stubble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
monie=many
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
but house or hald=without house or dwelling
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
thole=endure
dribble=drizzle

An' cranreuch cauld!
cranreuch cauld=hoar-frost cold

But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane
no thy-lane=not alone
In proving foresight may be vain.
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men
Gang aft agley
gang aft agley=go often awry
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
lea'e us nought=leave us nothing
For promis'd joy!

Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee.
But Och! I backward cast my e'e
e'e=eye
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
canna=cannot
I guess an' fear!





Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie,
O, what panic's in thy breastie!
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, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-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!
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast
An' weary Winter comin fast,
An' cozy here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

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

But Mousie, thou are 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 promis'd joy!

Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee.
But Och! I backward cast my e'e
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!