#ScottishWriters
BY sunny market—place and street Wherever I go my drum I beat, And wherever I go in my coat of r… The ribbons flutter about my head. I seek recruits for wars to come —
A picture-frame for you to fill, A paltry setting for your face, A thing that has no worth until You lend it something of your grac… I send (unhappy I that sing
When I am grown to man’s estate I shall be very proud and great, And tell the other girls and boys Not to meddle with my toys.
Apologetic Postscript Of A Year… IF you see this song, my dear, And last year’s toast, I’m confoundedly in fear You’ll be serious and severe
THEY tell me, lady, that to—day On that unknown Australian strand… Some time ago, so far away— Another lady joined the band. She joined the company of those
I should like to rise and go Where the golden apples grow;— Where below another sky Parrot islands anchored lie, And, watched by cockatoos and goat…
Every night my prayers I say, And get my dinner every day; And every day that I’ve been good… I get an orange after food. The child that is not clean and ne…
LONG TIME I LAY IN LIT… LONG time I lay in little ease Where, placed by the Turanian, Marseilles, the many—masted, sees The blue Mediterranean.
Sing me a song of a lad that is go… Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye. Mull was astern, Rum on the port,
Let now your soul in this substant… Some anchor strike. Be here the… This spectacle immutably from now The picture in your eye; and when… And the green scene goes on the in…
We see you as we see a face That trembles in a forest place Upon the mirror of a pool Forever quiet, clear and cool; And in the wayward glass, appears
WHAT man may learn, what man may… Of right or wrong of false or true… While, skipper—like, his course he… Through nine and twenty mingled ye… Half misconceived and half forgot,
WITH caws and chirrupings, the w… In this thin sun rejoice. The Psalm seems but the little ki… That sings with its own voice. The cloud—rifts share their amber…
It is not yours, O mother, to com… Not, mother, yours to weep, Though nevermore your son again Shall to your bosom creep, Though nevermore again you watch y…
He hears with gladdened heart the… Peal, and loves the falling dew; He knows the earth above and under… Sits and is content to view. He sits beside the dying ember,