#ScottishWriters
For the long nights you lay awake And watched for my unworthy sake: For your most comfortable hand That led me through the uneven lan… For all the story—books you read:
Clinkum—clank in the rain they rid… Down by the braes and the grey sea… Clinkum—clank by stane and cairn, Weary fa’ their horse—shoe—airn! Loud on the causey, saft on the sa…
O NEPOS, twice my neigh(b)our (… We’re door by door, by Flora’s te… And in the country, still conjoine… Behold our villas standing gate by… Thou hast a daughter, dearer far t…
Late in the nicht in bed I lay, The winds were at their weary play… An’ tirlin’ wa’s an’ skirlin’ wae Through Heev’n they battered; - On-ding o’ hail, on-blaff o’ spray…
WHETHER upon the garden seat You lounge with your uplifted feet Under the May’s whole Heaven of b… Or whether on the sofa you, No grown up person being by,
T last she comes, O never more In this dear patience of my pain To leave me lonely as before, Or leave my soul alone again.
O DULL cold northern sky, O brawling sabbath bells, O feebly twittering Autumn bird t… The year is like to die! O still, spoiled trees, O city wa…
LOUD and low in the chimney The squalls suspire; Then like an answer dwindles And glows the fire, And the chamber reddens and darken…
GO(D) knows, my Martial, if we t… To enjoy our days set wholly free; To the true life together bend our… And take a furlough from the false… No rich saloon, nor palace of the…
WOULDST thou be free? I think… But if thou wouldst, attend this s… When quite contented }thou canst d… Thou shall be free when } And drink a small wine of the marc…
MY Martial owns a garden, famed t… Beyond the glades of the Hesperid… Along Janiculum lies the chosen b… Where the cool grottos trench the… The moderate summit, something pla…
The coach is at the door at last; The eager children, mounting fast And kissing hands, in chorus sing: Good—bye, good—bye, to everything! To house and garden, field and law…
O CHIEF director of the growing… Of Rome the glory and of Rome the… Me, O Quintilian, may you not for… Before from labour I make haste t… Some burn to gather wealth, lay ha…
At evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing… And do not play at anything. Now, with my little gun, I crawl
In the other gardens And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail! Pleasant summer over