Steve said it was Robbie Burns birthday today. Born January 25, 1759.
We missed the fancy fundraiser for the museum last week, the Haggis and men decked out in kilts of their clan.
We missed the “not your grandfather’s ” Robert Burns birthday party in Lawrenceville and the one on the South Side with all kinds of scotch at Piper’s pub.
But we got to pay homage to the Scottish poet, just before dusk. The end of a January gloomy Sunday.
We headed out to Schenley Park to the Robert Burns statue (by Scottish sculptor J. Massey Rhind) and it started to snow.
Right next to Phipps Conservatory.
Mrs. Peacock sounds like a game of clue but here is a snippet of the article in the Mary 3, 1914 Post-Gazette.
For a list of Robert Burns memorials around the world, click here
“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men,
Gang aft agley.
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!
(To A Mouse)”
― Robert Burns, The Works of Robert Burns
My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.”
― Robert Burns
from Tam o’Shanter
But pleasures are like poppies spread—
You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river—
A moment white—then melts forever.
“And man, whose heav’n-erected face
The smiles of love adorn
Man’s inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn!”
― Robert Burns