#ScottishWriters
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…
TO friends at home, the lone, the… The gracious old, the lovely young… The fair, December the beloved, These from my blue horizon and gre… These from this pinnacle of distan…
Little Indian, Sioux, or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, Oh! don’t you wish that you were m… You have seen the scarlet trees
OUR Johnie’s deid. The mair’s th… He’s deid, an’ deid o’ Aqua—vitae… O Embro’, you’re a shrunken city, Noo Johnie’s deid! Tak hands, an’ sing a burial ditty
Of speckled eggs the birdie sings And nests among the trees; The sailor sings of ropes and thin… In ships upon the seas. The children sing in far Japan,
Let us, who part like brothers, pa… And you in your tongue and measure… Our now division duly solemnise. Unlike the strains, and yet the th… The strains unlike, and how unlike…
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…
TEMPEST tossed and sore afflict… Come to me, all ye that labour; co… Fear no more, O doubting hearted;… Lo, the voice of your redeemer; lo… Here one hour you toil and combat,…
The red room with the giant bed Where none but elders laid their h… The little room where you and I Did for awhile together lie And, simple, suitor, I your hand
Soon our friends perish, Soon all we cherish Fades as days darken —goes as flow… Soon in December Over an ember,
THE summer sun shone round me, The folded valley lay In a stream of sun and odour, That sultry summer day. The tall trees stood in the sunlig…
It is very nice to think The world is full of meat and drin… With little children saying grace In every Christian kind of place.
Who comes to—night? We open the d… Who comes? My bursting walls, can… The presences that now together th… Your narrow entry, as with flowers… As with the air of life, the breat…
Say not of me, that weakly I decl… The labours of my siers, and fled… The towers we founded and the lamp… To play at home with paper like a… But rather say: In the afternoon…
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,