#ScottishWriters
Yet, O stricken heart, remember,… How of human days he lived the bet… April came to bloom and never dim… Breathed its killing chills upon t… Doomed to know not winter, only S…
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,
When aince Aprile has fairly come… An’ birds may bigg in winter’s lum… An’ pleisure’s spreid for a’ and s… O’ whatna state, Love, wi’ her auld recruitin’ drum…
NOW Antoninus, in a smiling age, Counts of his life the fifteenth f… The rounded days and the safe year… Nor fears death’s water mounting r… To him remembering not one day is…
Sonnet VIII As Daniel, bird—alone, in that fa… Kneeling in fervent prayer, with h… Turned thro’ the casement toward t… Or as untamed Elijah, that red br…
As from the house your mother sees You playing round the garden trees… So you may see, if you will look Through the windows of this book, Another child, far, far away,
Three of us afloat in the meadow b… Three of us abroad in the basket o… Winds are in the air, they are blo… And waves are on the meadow like t… Where shall we adventure, to—day t…
AS swallows turning backward When half—way o’er the sea, At one word’s trumpet summons They came again to me — The hopes I had forgotten
I HAVE left all upon the shamefu… Honour and Hope, my God, and all… Spurless, with sword reversed and… Degraded and disgraced, I leave t… From him that hath not, shall ther…
THOUGH deep indifference should… The sluggish life beneath my brows… And all the external things I see Grow snow—showers in the street to… Yet inmost in my stormy sense
Dear Thamson class, whaure’er I g… It aye comes ower me wi’ a spang: “Lordsake! They Thamson lads - (… Or else lord mend them!) - An’ that Wanchancy annual sang
CALL me not rebel, though { here… {in what I sing If I no longer hail thee { King a… { Lord and King I have redeemed myself with all I…
When the grass was closely mown, Walking on the lawn alone, In the turf a hole I found And hid a soldier underground. Spring and daisies came apace;
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
I SEND to you, commissioners, A paper that may please ye, sirs (For troth they say it might be wo… An’ I believe’t) And on your business lay my curse