Author Robert Burns One night as I did wander, When corn begins to shoot, I sat me down to ponder Upon an auld tree root: Auld Aire ran by before me, And bicker'd to the seas; A cushat crouded o'er me, That echoed thro' the braes. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 3 (1 vote) Rate Log in or register to post comments