The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1907-01-24
BURNS BIRTHDAY.

If Robert Burns, pre-emlnent ocottish
poet. who was born at Ayr, January To-
1853.
Rurns was educated at nelghborlng
school. and received also, according 10 MS
own statements, valuable instructions from
an old woman who resided in the family.
"she had, suppose" said he, 1.-THE larg-
est collection in the country OF tales ana
songs concerning devils, ghosts, fairies,
brownies. witches, warlocks, enchanted
towers. dragons, and other trumpery."
Burns. who was the son of small farmer
and gardener, became an excellent piow-
man while quite boy, and in his sixteenth
year g first committed" as he says, the
sin of rhyme Love formed the insplra-
ton of his poem, and he was, according
to his own statements, possessed OF very
tender heart, and was continually wor-
shipping some goddess or other.
1t is a remarkable thing, something well
worth bordering over, that men should
to-day throughout all Christendom do
honor to the memory of poor gardner
born 148 years ago in the little shire OF
Ayr, and dying, July 81, 1895, after life
of incessant struggle and manual toll with
no better reward than petty appointment
in the Crowns revenue service. Fhis is
the way that England treated Burns.
That Burns memory should be so cher.
ished by the world can be explained in only
one way, for the best and soundest OF the
critics do not put him in the front rank OF
poets. That is to say he was not great as
Milton, as Byron, Dante, Keats, Shiller,
Heine or Tennyson are great. He was
not deep thinker, and he did not reach
vast height, or sound profound depths.
But he is the poet par excellence OF hu-
mainly. He is the great translator of the
homely, honest, kindly and sorrowful
moods of the common people.
In other words he is the master singer of
every day.
That is the secret of the affection in
which his memory is held. People rever-
ence Shakespeare and Milton, deeply adj
mire the delicate creations of Keats or
Coleridge, are thrilled with the sonorous
melody of Byron, but they love Burns.
In some utterly indescribable way, just
as a color or an odor are indescrible, he
goes down deep in the human heart and
thrills it's secret chords as no other singer
does. Il is hard to find anything in COM
mon life that moves or interests, touches
or pleases US, that Burns has not given
expression to, and it is because he has
welded some apt and magical phrase to
each of these homely emotions that he is
the dear spokesman of the people. No
other poet, not even the epigramist Pope,
has written SO many things we feel inclined
to quote.
Burns had a hard time of it all his life.
He was poor; he was barred by circum-
stances from the society of men of letters
and he loved a woman whom he could not
marry. There is nothing remarkable in
this last incident; it has occurred in the
lives of more poets than one, and is re-
sponsible, no doubt, for much of the poetry
in the world. AS in the case of Shakes
peare, there is much mystery as to who the
woman was, but she is generally believed
to have been lass of Ayr named JEANNE
Lorimer. Ii is tender little name, and
calls to mind a picture to go with it of
sweet and winsome girl, with eyes as blue
as the lochs. She was the Chloris to whom
and of whom he SO often wrote, "The
Lassie wi the Lintwhite Locks
Burns himself declared that it was this
lonely FRIEND" as he called her, that in
spired such masterpieces as :" Highland
Mary, ""Bonnie Jean, . Meg o. the Mill"
"Whistle and I'll Come to You, My Lad"
and even that dearest and tenderest lyric
ofthem all, ..John Anderson, My 10, john"
But to return to the great charm of
Burns poetry-its eminently human quail
ity. What, for instance, could be more
exquisite than the much quoted opening
stanzas of 'sThe Mountain Daisy
"Weel, modest, crimson tipped flower,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
For maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem.
To spare thee now is past my pow'r,
Thou bonnie gen.
"Alas! it's not thy neebor sweet,
The bonnie lark, companion meet,
Bending among the dewy weet
WI speckled breast,
When upward springing, blithe, to greet
The purling east
One must remember when readino th;a