Happy New Year’s Day Poems Inspirational 2020
New Year Poems 2020:- Happy New Year is on our doors, so friends, are you ready to celebrate it with your friends and family members? Let us introduce you with the Happy New year Poems, which are enough to spread the heat of the new year among your dear and near ones. This is an excellent opportunity to show your love as the new year is the most significant event which is celebrated in all the world. New Year Poems are something unique we are introducing here, which can be used to share with your heartfelt. With the new year start, something new which attracts everyone, and new year’s poem is the perfect example of it.
Many people love poetry, so we collected some best Happy New Year Poems for them. We request you to go through the page and feel the ultimate collection that we have sorted for you. These poems are enough to make your Happy New Year 2020 amazing.
Read More Happy New Year Poems In English
Auld Farmer’s Happy New-Year-Morning – Poem by Robert Burns
A Guide New-year I wish thee, Maggie!
Hae, there’s a trip to thy auld baggie:
Tho’ thou’s howe-back now, an’ knaggie,
I’ve seen the day
There could have gained like any stage,
Out-over the lay.
Tho’ now thou’s dowie, stiff an’ crazy,
An’ thy auld hide as white’s a daisie,
I’ve seen the dappled, sleek an’ glaze,
A bonie gray:
He should be tight that dared to praise thee,
Ance in a day.
Thou ance was I’ the foremost rank,
A filly buirdly, steeve an’ swank;
An’ set weel down a shapely shank,
As e’er tread yard;
An’ could have flown out-owre a stank,
Like any bird.
It’s now some nine-an’-twenty-year,
Sin’ thou was my guide fathers mear;
He died me thee, o’ tocher clear,
An’ fifty mark;
Tho’ it was sma,’ ‘Twas weel-won gear,
An’ thou was stark.
When first I gazed to woo my Jenny,
Ye then was trotting wi’ your Minnie:
Tho’ ye was tricky, see, a funny,
Ye ne’er was done;
But namely, tawie, quiet, an’ cannie,
An’ unco sonsie.
That day, ye pranced wi’ muckle pride,
When ye bure hame my bonnie bride:
An’ sweet an’ graceful’ she did ride,
Wi’ maiden air!
Kyle-Stewart I could brag wide
For sic a pair.
Tho’ now ye dow but Hoyte and hobble,
An’ wintle like a salmon coble,
That day, ye was a jinker noble,
For heels an’ win’!
An’ ran them till they a’ did warble,
Far, far, behind’!
When thou an’ I were young an’ skeigh
An’ stable-meals at fairs were dreigh,
How thou wad prance, and snore, an’ skreigh
An’ take the road!
Town’s-bodies ran, an’ stood Raleigh,
An’ ca’t thee mad.
When thou was can’t, an’ I was mellow,
We took the road aye like a swallow:
At browser, thou had ne’er a fellow,
For pith an’ speed;
But ev’ry tail thou pay them hollow,
Whatever thou gaed.
The sma’, droop-rumpled, hunter cattle
Might aiblins wart thee for a brattle;
But sax Scotch mile, thou try their mettle,
An’ gart them while:
Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle
O’ saugh or hazel.
Thou was a noble fittie-lan’,
As e’er in tug or tow was drawn!
Aft thee an’ I, in aught hours’ gaun,
In guid March-weather,
Hae turn’d sax rood beside our han’,
For days thegither.
Thou never brain’s, an’ fetched, an’ flick;
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whisk it,
An’ spread abreed thy weel-fill’d brisket,
Wi’ pith an’ power;
Till sprittie knowes wad ain’t an’ risk
An’ slypet owre.
When frosts lay lang, an’ snows were deep,
An’ threaten’d labor back to keep,
I need thy cog a wee bit heap
Aboon the timmer:
I ken’d my Maggie wad na sleep,
For that, or simmer.
In cart or car thou never resist;
The steyest brae thou wad hae fac’t it;
Thou never lap, an’ stent, and breast,
Then stood to law;
But thy step a wee thing hastily,
Thou snoozed away.
My plow is now thy bairn-time a’,
Four gallant brutes as e’er did draw;
Forbye sax me I’ve to sell awa,
That thou hast nurst:
They brought me thirteen pund an’ twa,
The vera worst.
Mony a sair dark we twa have wrought,
An’ wi’ the weary warl’ fought!
An’ many an anxious day, I thought
We wad be beat!
Here to crazy age, we’re brought,
Wi’ something yet.
An’ think na,’ my trusty auld servant,’
That now perhaps thou’s less deserving,
An’ thy auld days may end in starvin;
For my last few,
A heap impart, I’ll reserve ane
Laid by for you.
We’ve worn to crazy years thegither;
We’ll tote about wi’ ane another;
Wi’ tentie care I’ll flit thy tether
To some hain’d rig,
Whare ye may nobly rax your leather,
Wi’ sma’ fatigue.