#ScottishWriters
The lamps now glitter down the str… Faintly sound the falling feet; And the blue even slowly falls About the garden trees and walls. Now in the falling of the gloom
COME to me, all ye that labour;… Here apart in starry quiet I will… Come to me, ye heavy laden, sin de… In your father’s quiet mansions, s… But an hour you bear your trial, s…
The rain is falling all around, It falls on field and tree, It rains on the umbrellas here, And on the ships at sea.
FLOWER god, god of the spring,… Cold—dyed shield in the sky, lover… Here I wander in April Cold, grey—headed; and still to my Heart, Spring comes with a bound,…
Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand. It flows along for ever, With trees on either hand. Green leaves a—floating,
We travelled in the print of olden… Yet all the land was green, And love we found, and peace, Where fire and war had been. They pass and smile, the children…
I NOW, O friend, whom noiselessl… Settle around, and whose small cha… Dusk as the sloping window takes i… * * * * * The kindly hill, as to complete ou…
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…
NOW bare to the beholder’s eye Your late denuded bindings lie, Subsiding slowly where they fell, A disinvested citadel; The obdurate corset, Cupid’s foe,
The Silver Ship, my King - that… In the bright islands whence your… The Silver Ship, at rest from win… Below your palace in your harbour… And the seafarers, sitting safe on…
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…
YOU remember, I suppose, How the August sun arose, And how his face Woke to trill and carolette All the cages that were set
“Chief of our aunts”—not only I, But all your dozen of nurselings c… “What did the other children do? And what were childhood, wanting y…
Here all is sunny, and when the tr… Skims the green level of the lawn,… Dispetals roses; here the house is… Of kneaded brick and the plumed mo… Such clay as artists fashion and s…
To you, let snow and roses And golden locks belong. These are the world’s enslavers, Let these delight the throng. For her of duskier lustre