Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1859-01-25
THE POETS CENTENARY.

THE POETS CENTENARY
One hundred years ago to-day-Jan, 18th,
a759-when Winters winds rustled the brown
heather and swept reentleniy across the moor,
in a clay-built cabin of Scotland was born "a
man child whose fame has filled all lands, and
whose name is the synonym of Poesy itself
A hundred years, How many millions have
been born, have lived their little life, have
died, and are forgot.on!-yet century has but
made greener the memory and more glorious
the name of RoBERT BURNS. To-day, the
centennial anniversary of his birth, will be
celebrated, not in Scotia alone, but throughout
that kingdom on which the sun never sets
throughout America-wherever the English
language is spoken-and, indeed, wherever
genuine Poesy has admirers, Why is this I?
There have been greater poets, there have
~ boer. horde ef greater sesius Without tho
imagination of Shakespeare or Milton, with
out the culture of Scott, without the genius of
Byron, the bard of Scotia has not less of i'm
mortality With no adventurous circumstan-
ces of birth, comparatively without education,
and unassisted by wealth or friends, the Ayr
shire plow-bcy has left name as undying as
Time itself, and popularity that keeps pace
with the revolving years,
"There have been letter themes than his,
And longer scrolls, and louderlyres,
And lays lit up with poesy's
Purer and holier fires;
Yet read the names that know not death,
Few Robler than BURNS are there,
And few have greener wreath
Than that which binds his hair"
Again we ask, why is this Simply because
the poetry of Burns sprung directly from the
heart and must, of necessity, meet with re-
Spouse while human hearts beat to the warm
est, deepest, and noblest emotions. Ii ever
there was a poet true to nature, it was this
Scottish plow-man, With "an inspiration for
every fancy, and a music for every mood" he
touches us ia our every circumstance. Are we
devotional He inspires with "The Cottar's
Saturday Night" pastoral without parallel
in the language. Do we admire nature! Read
the ode "To Mountain Daisy" Would we
be merry Listen to "Tam O'Shanter." Do
we like satire2 1t found in "Holy Wilie's
Prayer" Are we musical? Then sing his
innumerable songs. Are we sensitive to Gu
pid's flame? 1t burns brightly at the altar of
s'Highland Mary" Does dame Fortune shun
US Remember, "a mans man for a that"
Thus does the poet appeal to us in our uni
versal moods He minges with our mirth, he
sorrows in our sorrow, he prays in our prayers.
He had that "ae spark O. natures fire that
makes the world akin" And hence it is that
Burns is no less the worlds poet than that of
Scotland.
We rejoice that this centennial anniversary
is to be so generally celebrated in our own
country 1t is peculiarly fit and proper that it
should be. Burns was a man of the people and
not of class. He was a Democrat in the
truest and best sense of that much abused
term He abhorred tyranny, whether in
Church or State. He despised hypocrisy, how
ever holy its guise. He had no respect for
wealth when unalied to worth He disdained
the pride of birth that lived on bankrupt rep
utation. He cared not for the tinsel and "trip
perry of place. But he had faith in humanity,
he gloried in free and stalwart manhood.
His hope was large, for, although surrounded
by adverse circumstances, and struggling with
hard poverty and harder passions, he prophe-
sled of "the good time coming"
'sThen let us pray that come it may
AS come it will for a that,
That sense and WORTH DER a. the earth,
May bear the gree, and a. that.
For a. that, and a. that
It's coming yet, for a. that,
That man to man, the warld DER,
Shall brothers be for a. that.n
The poetry of Burns was all written within