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4 de mai. de 2016 · It is one of the best poems written by Robert Burns, so much so that he is often associated with and remembered by the same. Comin’ Thro The Rye: Deeper Meaning. Comin’ Thro’ the Rye has gained almost all its audience and readership, maybe because of Holden Caulfield’s misinterpretation in the novel – The Catcher in the Rye.
Poema de Robert Burns. O poema "Comin Thro' the Rye" do escritor escocês Robert Burns (1759-1796), é provavelmente mais conhecido por causa da má interpretação de Holden Caulfield dele no romance de JD Salinger " The Catcher in the Rye ". Em vez de "encontrar" um corpo no campo de centeio, ele se lembra disso como "pegar" um corpo.
—Robert Burns The poem "Comin Thro the Rye" by Robert Burns may be best-known today because of Holden Caulfield's misinterpretation of it in The Catcher in the Rye. In the book, Caulfield relates his fantasy to his sister, Phoebe: he's the "catcher in the rye," rescuing children from falling from a cliff.
Robert Burns var en skotsk poet, Skottlands nasjonaldikter, og er kjent over hele verden for dikt som «Auld Lang Syne», «A Red, Red Rose» og «A Man's a Man for A' That». Han var også en av de viktigste stemmene for bruk av skotsk språk og dialekter. Hans fødselsdag 25. januar blir feiret med tradisjonsrik Burns Night hvert år.
Robert Burns. 1759–1796. Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images. Robert Burns was born in 1759, in Alloway, Scotland, to William and Agnes Brown Burnes. Like his father, Burns was a tenant farmer. However, toward the end of his life he became an excise collector in Dumfries, where he died in 1796; throughout his life he was also a practicing poet.
Comin Through the Rye. A song credited to Robert Burns, but perhaps one of the many he found and added to, about a lass who thinks about who she might meet while walking through the field of rye. She suggests she might have a secret admirer, or even admirers. Gin a body meet a body. Comin through the rye. Gin a body kiss a body. Need a body cry?
To a Mouse. By Robert Burns. On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785. Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickerin brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee. Wi’ murd’ring pattle!
