#ScottishWriters
Not undelightful, friend, our rust… To grateful hearts; for by especia… Deep nested in the hill’s enormous… With its own ring of walls and gro… Sits, in deep shelter, our small c…
Children, you are very little, And your bones are very brittle; If you would grow great and statel… You must try to walk sedately. You must still be bright and quiet…
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,
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…
TO her, for I must still regard h… As feminine in her degree, Who has been my unkind bombarder Year after year, in grief and glee… Year after year, with oaken tree;
You too, my mother, read my rhymes For love of unforgotten times, And you may chance to hear once mo… The little feet along the floor.
I have a hoard of treasure in my b… The grange of memory steams agains… Full of my bygone lifetime’s garne… Old pleasures crowned with sorrow… Old sorrow grown a joy, old penanc…
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
The infinite shining heavens Rose and I saw in the night Uncountable angel stars Showering sorrow and light. I saw them distant as heaven,
ON now, although the year be done… Now, although the love be dead, Dead and gone; Hear me, O loved and cherished on… Give me still the hand that led,
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,…
In the other gardens And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail! Pleasant summer over
Not yet, my soul, these friendly f… Where thou with grass, and rivers,… And the bright face of day, thy da… Where to thine ear first sang the… Where love and thou that lasting b…
So shall this book wax like unto a… Fairy with mirrored flowers about… Or like some tarn that wailing cur… Glassing the sallow uplands or bro… And so, as men go down into a dell
OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes. Say, love, do you hear me,